


Never Let Me Go

by KlaraRoman



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Overwatch, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gabriel is a dick, Gay Sex, Gun Violence, M/M, Mermaid Hanzo, Minor Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Original Character(s), Overwatch - Freeform, Pirate Jesse McCree, Smut, Top Jesse McCree, but John Laurens Preacher is a bigger dick, england hates jesse, jesse flirts, mermaid au, not so slow burn, pirate crew - Freeform, the huckleberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:52:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 56,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlaraRoman/pseuds/KlaraRoman
Summary: Based off the Pirate!AU by rebeza on Tumblr.~Captain Jesse McCree never forgets.So when a familiar face with fins wounds up years later on the shore of a remote island, McCree finds the memories at the back of his mind still as fresh as the anger in his heart still raw."Hanzo." He smirked. "Long time no see, darlin'."~Short story of another ship of mine. I hope you like some mermaid Hanzo and pirate McCree. ^3^





	1. At the End of the Barrell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rebeza](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=rebeza).



> This is gonna be a short story, but I hope you'll enjoy it though! XD
> 
> Ok, let's do this!!

The Huckleberry sped across the expanse of cerulean waters as the crew aboard her deck rejoiced at yet another successful plunder. The speckled night sky bore witness to the merry bunch's bad dancing, boisterous laughing, and of course, excessive drinking.

"To the Captain!" a man with a glinting gold tooth cheered, bringing a frothing beer mug high into the air.

"To the captain!" the rest echoed with just as much fervor, bringing their mugs out and clashing it with the other's own.

Looking over his shoulder, the man flashed his golden tooth yet again and grinned as he eyed a tall figure sitting away from the rest, slurping his own bottle of liquor in peace and the blanket of darkness.

"Captain McCree, join us!" the man called, swinging an inviting arm towards his direction. "There's a lot to go around with all 'em barrels we got--and there's more in the pantry!"

Setting the half empty flask down, the captain in the dark tilted his faded hat back and eyed the crew member with a sharp blue stare that appeared silver in the torch light.

"I'll pass, Duncan," he replied, pulling his pants up a little as he rocked on the heels of his boots. "I'm real tired after that attack we done on the magistrate's ship. Who knew the guy had an entire battalion in there?"

"Chap's probably goin' somewhere important," Duncan replied, leaving his peers to approach his superior. "Too bad we found no map on the guy. Could've beat 'im to it."

McCree looked up to the stars and massaged his matted brow with stiff fingertips. "I think I'm gonna retire in my cabin, call it a day. You guys have fun--" he snapped his head towards Duncan "--but not too much fun."

"Aye." Duncan winked and his smile widened. "I'll keep them in line."

"Especially Thomas." McCree pointed. "Keep your eye on that guy."

"Will do, Captain."

McCree swerved his broad form, and let the wind catch the expanse his long black cloak, flapping through the sea breeze as though to protect its owner from the elements.

Going inside the dim cabin, he locked the door with a heaved sigh and placed his cloak carelessly onto a rusty rack standing nearby the entrance. Kicking his boots off in the process, he made his way onto a makeshift bed in the corner composed of three sturdy crates and a worn mattress above. The captain wanted nothing more than to stretch his sore limbs and curl after a grueling day of being, well, the greatest captain in existence. The magistrate never saw it coming, and he was sure his face will be plastered all over England with a huge bounty settled upon his head. But that was a worry for another day.

He hadn't even bothered changing out of his sweaty attire and leapt into the thin mattress without a care for such intricacies. After finding the perfect position to sleep the cold night through, McCree placed the hollow of his hat over his face and closed eyes shut, his fuzzy mind wandering off to some godforsaken island where gold came in heaps of hills, where gems coursed the land like rivers.

Someday. That place is as good as mine.

And he was out cold.

***

The captain's eyes shot open to the sound of screaming and hollering outside his dirty, cluttered quarters. Jumping on his feet, McCree nearly stumbled onto the thick mahogany table as his vision spun from his tired stupor. Groaning, he swore he'd kill someone for disrupting his slumber as he picked his hat up and placed it back upon his throbbing head.

His arm bolted forth, hand grabbing at the double barrel revolver laying on the bedside table. Within seconds, he had on his signature boots and cloak, and the cabin doors flew open so quickly they almost came off their thick black hinges.

"What the fuck is all the racket?" McCree spat, acid and fatigue dripping from his voice. He watched as his sailors turned to him, their scarred, gruff faces blanched with a clear emotion: fear. For once, the captain's furrowed brow loosened, and his expression soon mirrored theirs.

"What?" he asked, exasperated by the lack of information. "What's gotten into all of you?"

"Captain," Duncan spoke on behalf of the crew. "Thomas fell overboard!"

McCree's countenance looked more baffled than anything as he let out a huff. "That's it? You know, we could just use a rowboat and bring him back up-"

"No, Captain!" Duncan interrupted with a dazzled face, darting his eyes left and right. "He didn't just fall!" His voice sunk even further into a hushed whisper. "T'was a siren."

McCree's pupils shrunk into dots, and saliva choked his throat down. Regaining his composure back, he lifted a thick eyebrow and swayed his torso to try and act aloof.

"A siren, eh?" he began. "What does he look like?"

"He?" Duncan inquired, any thoughts of Thomas evaporated by bewilderment. "Captain, how could you possibly have known the siren was a he?"

McCree cleared his throat as he realized his mistake and shrugged his draped shoulders casually. "Lucky guess."

The other bought the story and let it go, the worry coming back to his features. "What about Thomas?"

McCree cast his eyes to the tattered sun--bathed sails and scratched at the auburn stubble on his jaw. "Tell you what, partner. I go search the waters, y'all stay put and watch my sweet Huckleberry. That sound good to ya?"

"Great idea, captain! I'll come with and-"

"Now, hold up, Duncan." The captain raised a gloved hand and placed some distance between him and the old pirate. "When I said y'all stay put, I meant y'all stay put. I'm going alone."

"Alone? With a bloody siren lurking about?"

But McCree was already making his way towards one of the four rowboats suspended beside the ship.

"That's what a gun is for," he chuckled, reloading the cylinder of his weapon with a fresh new batch. "And I've got here a harpoon so ya don't have to explode your head with worryin'."

The crew could only watch as their rambunctious master boarded the small wooden boat and descended with a rough splash. They all ran to the windward side of the ship and leaned against the balustrade to find McCree glancing up at them with a last minute instruction.

"If I don't come back, you can bet your asses I'll be in that island over there."

Their gazes followed his finger pointing towards a nearby rocky green island sitting proudly a good distance away from their bow.

"If you don't mind," the man continued, "I'll be on my way now. If I don't find him in time, Thomas might be shaggin' a bullshark out of desperation."

Above him, the men roared with laughter at the probability of such an outcome--sounds like Thomas alright. With eyes still squinted from their chortling fit, they watched the great Jesse McCree rowing away with wide wooden paddles, fighting the harsh blows the waves threw at the side of his small vessel.

He braved through, and it wasn't long before the noisy ambience simmered down into a calming chant filled with whistling winds and songs from the sea. The man took a few minutes here and there admiring the vibrance and scenery of the place basked in early dawn. His taxing obligation as captain didn't permit him the luxury of time, and whenever he does get the rare chance to be passive, he met it head on how a pirate should: get the most out if it.

So he sat there alone, his limp arms on his knees as the boat rocked incessantly, always vulnerable to tipping over. If he were to be taken by said siren, then no one would be able to come to his rescue. His carcass could just wash up ashore and that would be the end of the great captain.

Yet at the moment, he had never felt more blessed.

Beholding the island before him, his baby blue orbs held a tint of awe in them despite seeing all there was to see in his long years of voyaging. The great mountain before him touched the fluffy clouds, and at its base, clumps of green teeming with life and untold secrets.

Not bad at all.

However, his head ceased its nodding when a rather strong turbulence pushed the left side of the wooden vessel at an alarming angle. Putting more weight on the area in danger, Jesse was able to steady it and prevent any further mishaps.

His rugged face scrunched up in confusion, and he held his hat in place.

What the hell?

"I swore I never saw that damn wave comin' in," he huffed under his breath, looking around like a cat in pursuit of the canary.

A few feet away from the boat, the waters thrashed more vehemently and bubbles sprang forth from the dark bottom. A blur of flesh, and then a sudden eruption; Thomas was gasping and clambering up the boat like a hopeless madman.

"Captain." The lad struggled to speak. "A-A siren!"

"I know, partner." McCree was nonchalant even in shock. "Now we're gonna have a closer look on that siren you said."

"But Captain," Thomas stuttered, "he's strong. Like, very strong. And his claws are deadly!"

Jesse already held up a wooden harpoon before the other could finish.

"Mine is deadlier."

Out of the blue, Thomas gave another shriek and stuck close to the captain's person like a leech. McCree had to pry him off and shoot him an incredulous glare before he placed his focus back on the sea before him. The siren was close, he could feel it in his veins.

"There!"

And without thinking, the captain's arm flicked forward and delivered the harpoon into the spot where Thomas had pointed. At first he thought he'd miss, until the cerulean surface rippled into a familiar shade of red.

Oh, he hit something alright.

"It's getting away, captain!" Thomas exclaimed, voice blooming with thrill as he pointed towards the splashing in the water and the scattering blood.

"Not on my watch."

Grabbing the paddles' poles, McCree rowed using all of his might with Thomas screaming directions in the background. Just as expected, the obscure haze headed straight for the island ahead, and it didn't take long before the bow of the rowboat crashed against the shallow shores.

"Stay on the boat, Thomas."

Hopping down with a soft thud, Jesse glared the trail of bloody sand leading further up the rocky coastline. Judging from the little, uneven furrows and crimps on the side, he could tell that someone tried covering the mess up in a desperate rushjob.

And failed miserably.

McCree was hot on the trail, and with every step of his boot, he knew it wouldn't be long before this ungodly creature was exposed; the punk who had the audacity to take a member of his crew--and right from the ship no less. The jagged, menacing rocks thickened and grew to his oblivion, but the only thing he took interest in noticing was a lustrous blue tail sitting atop a saturated pool of crimson and sand. He smirked at the sight.

Jacpkpot.

"Well...what do we have here?" he cooed with a scrutinizing gaze.

The creature before him refused to be cowered in his vulnerability, and he sat with a straight spine to radiate an aura of dignity and courage. Through the wet black tresses hanging down his face, he stared the human down with slits for pupils, focusing on the amber orbs engulfed in the shadow of the pirate's hat.

McCree on the other hand stared at the dark rivulets streaming down the siren's tail that stained the white sand beneath. The huge gash he had inflicted on the siren prevented any pronounced movement--water or land--and it didn't take a detective to figure out that this merman was as good as sushi. He could just kill the beast right here, right now.

"We'll I'll be damned," the captain continued, grabbing something from beneath his black cloak. "Hanzo."

The merman shifted at the sound of his name as the veneer he wore proudly cracked into pieces. He inched back, his chiseled face betraying the horror he felt inside. A sharp click! and the next thing he knew was that he was staring at the loaded barrels of a gun, aimed directly into the center of his head. The creature could only stare, eyeing the small hammer and the finger on the trigger with breathless anticipation.

"Long time no see, darlin'."

The merman's world spun into a vertigo, and the arms propping him up wobbled and shook, and the last thing Hanzo remembered before everything snapped black was the soft feel of the sand catching him as he fell.


	2. Shameless McCree

Water.

Hanzo's half lidded gaze skated up and down, side to side, and all that greeted him was a shallow screen of clear water. Lifting himself from his supine position, the siren's head popped out of the water and he found himself to be in some sort of dark, cluttered room filled with dust, weapons, and haphazardly placed furniture.

"I see you're awake, darlin'." A deep voice, smooth and silky like dark chocolate, came from a figure sitting nonchalantly atop a thick mahogany table.

Startled, Hanzo's pupils immediately turned into slits, and the delicate fins on the sides of his head reared out like oriental fans. He hissed, and the gills under his jaw became much more distinct the more McCree looked at them.

Amused, the captain gave a chuckle and pulled the thick cigar out from his lips, blowing grey wisps of smoke that offended the merman's nostrils.  
"What am I doing here?" Hanzo spat, trying to find a way out of his cramped confinement. A little nudge and his elbows would hit the glass walls; the length was sufficient only for accommodating most of his body. There was no room to swim, and to his dismay, the yellow end of his tail jutted through the water and flopped against the brim of the vessel like a person having trouble getting out of bed.

Way to make a guy feel special.

"You're welcome," McCree replied, successively catching the creature's intention."If I didn't take you back with me on this ship, you would have died on that godforsaken island from blood loss. Lucky for you it was I who found your sorry ass instead of some other sailor who'd sell you off to the circus."

"My ass wouldn't be sorry if it weren't for your bad aim," Hanzo countered, remembering the nasty wound inflicted on his tail. Lifting whatever he could out of the water, he saw that the gash had been treated and wrapped with meticulous expertise.

McCree hopped down to his feet. "For the record, I have the best aim in all the seven seas, and I wouldn't have hit you if you hadn't taken Thomas offboard!"

"The frail man? I thought he was at the edge of the ship because he wanted to die--I would have done him a favor had you not interrupted!"

"Thomas was not suicidal, he was drunk!"

"How was I supposed to know? I was just looking for my next meal."

Jesse's robust features softened. "Fine," he huffed, grabbing a bucket sitting nearby. "I figured I'll have ta feed ya if you're gonna work for us in the meantime."

"Work for you?" Hanzo's pale skin reddened with anger. "I refuse!"

A fish, slimy and raw, hit him square on the face before landing on the water with a small splash. It stared at its kin with bulging, lifeless eyes, until it had its head chewed off savagely by the siren.

"I won't let you go that easy." McCree clicked his tongue, circling his prey. "Not after what ya did to me four years ago."

The merman glared up at the cloaked figure and stood his ground--not that he could do otherwise.

"I didn't think you'd take it personally, pirate. After all, I was just doing what you do best: conning and taking advantage of fools."

The captain chuckled, fishing his trusty revolver from the holster hanging by his hip. He placed one of the barrels under the siren's chin and tilted it up, their faces only inches away from each other.

"Listen sweetheart," the captain began softly, his breath ghosting over Hanzo's tense lips. "I ain't no fool, and I certainly ain't one to forget. I'm gonna get what you took from me down to the tiniest bit even if it means keeping you for years."

Never taking his eyes off his prisoner, Jesse pulled away and straightened his six foot form, intimidating the merman more than he liked to admit.

"Now here's how it's gonna go down. I'll keep tendin' to your injury, and for a few hours everyday, you dive down and get as many pearls as you can. If we stumble upon a sunken ship, then--you get the gist. I'll let ya go as soon as you've paid your debt in full. That sound good to ya?"

"I guess I have no choice," Hanzo huffed with folded arms. "If it means I'll never have to see your face again, then I might as well agree."

"Just look all you want, darlin'. We have a lot of time." Jesse winked and flashed a lopsided grin.

To the siren's surprise, a second wave of red flushed the fairness out of his face. Why the hell does he keep calling me 'darling'? His shameless flirtation was starting to take a toll on Hanzo, and all he could do was shake his head to ease the flutter in his chest.

"How are you so certain I won't escape? Even a drunken sailor knows once you set a merperson back to sea, they'll either kill you or swim away--promise or not."

The captain spotted the underlying hint of a threat in his words and only chuckled, stepping to the side and bringing into the light a set of heavy chains neatly coiled like a python in slumber.

"Don't worry about a thing, darlin'. I got it covered."

Despite the tresses of wet black hair covering most of his eyes, Hanzo managed to roll them sarcastically, much to the pirate's amusement.

"I need to rest," was all he said, and the merman went down to lay on his back for the second time that day.

"No can do, darlin'," McCree said, grabbing a brown bottle that stood on the bedside table. "Doc said ya have to take this."

Hanzo resurfaced to watch the pirate twisting the bottle cap off and pouring its contents on to a metal spoon. At the sight of the oozing green liquid, his face twisted into one of disgust and confusion. There was no way that monstrosity was getting into his system!

"Get that away from me!" the merman hissed, orbs shrinking back into slits.

"Ya need to drink this twice a day to speed up the healin' process." Jesse replied, setting the spoon right in front of Hanzo's curled lips. It was proving to be a chore, and his patience was wearing thin.

"Maybe that doctor of yours is a sham. How could he possibly know the anatomical properties of a merman-"

Something cold and wet stuck itself into his mouth, and to his horror, Hanzo realized that the pirate took the opportunity of him ranting to force the medicament down without any hassle.

The siren gagged at the bitter and acrid aftertaste lingering on his tongue, destroying his taste buds one by one. He swore his face turned a sickly shade of green, and that he was going to die any minute now. It reached a point where he wasn't sure if it was bile or the syrup rising up his throat.

"See? That ain't too bad."

Hanzo wiped his mouth with a fierce swipe and glared at the pirate, silently praying for him to crumble and die.

"You can rest now, darlin'," McCree cooed, sauntering towards the entrance and stepping out with one last glance over his draped shoulder. "Don't miss me too much now."

Hanzo scoffed, not wanting to look at the captain, and when he heard the door clicking into place, the merman let off a heaved sigh and slumped his weight back into the shallow depth of his glassy prison.

"Please tell me this isn't real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh it is Hanzo. I wonder how he'll fare in the upcoming chapters! Sorry if this was rather short and uneventful, but I hoped you guys still loved it!
> 
> Tune in for the next parts, loves and dont forget to leave kudos if you enjoy the story so far! :*


	3. First Day on the Job

With the medication diligently given to him by McCree, Hanzo regained most of his strength back in a matter of days. His tail curled and twisted and flapped, slippery as slime, as though it had never been hit by a freak harpoon in the first place. Having that said, the siren found himself awoken from his slumber one morning, only to be yanked up in a less-than-graceful manner and strapped with thick leader bindings that secured his muscular torso to the thick, metallic chains.

"Don't think I forgot about our little deal, sweetheart. Your end of the bargain starts today, and last I checked you owe me an entire chest of gold and diamonds." McCree chuckled, taking a cigar and igniting the tip with a silver lighter. Even with his eyes lidded and intent on the brown roll burning before his mouth, Jesse caught sight of Hanzo studying the insignificant action--from the push of his thumb to the eruption of the flame, the merman observed it all with a charming curiosity.

"You're gonna need to get me a ton of shit to make up for that stunt you pulled."

"This makes me wish I hadn't outsmarted you back at the market. It's utterly humiliating," Hanzo huffed, crossing his arms over the attire.

"Didn't know you fish folk could have feet," McCree commented, suddenly remembering their old encounter back at a merchant village near some secret dock in England. "Only knew you weren't truly human when you jumped back into the sea with my loot. Why'd ya do it anyway?"

A flicker of sorrow flashed across the siren's face, and he looked to the side, effectively hiding the countenance before turning it into one of indifference. "It's none of your business."

"I think it is considerin' it's my chest."

"You stole it, fool. You barbarians touch something and you immediately think it's yours."

"Hey! That's just the law of the wild, sweetheart: Finders keepers, losers weepers; you snooze, you lose," Jesse defended, feeling as though he was back in the olden days, being rebuked by his former captain. What was him name again? Gabriel de los Reyes? To hell with it, he couldn't care enough to remember.

"Whatever." Hanzo clicked his tongue. "If you want your treasure so badly, then I'll just get you a new one."

"You better," the pirate spat with a glare of his blue eyes. "I've called in a couple of guys to carry you out and throw you overboard. They should be here any moment."

"Well they're taking too long. I know fish with better migration schedules than those brutes you call your men."

Out of the blue, light sprang forth, and the door of the cabin slammed onto the wall with a thunderous force.

"Who ya callin' a brute, ya scoundrel?" a short, gruff man with an unevenly cut beard boomed from the entrance. A taller, lankier man followed suit, eyeing the merman in the glass with trauma evident in his orbs.

"Try not to break the door again, Seb," Jesse said under his breath as he kept his gaze on the man to make sure he wouldn't destroy anything else.

"Thomas, right?" Hanzo said, attempting to ease the young man's nerves, much to his surprise.

But the lad only looked away, quivering behind his esteemed captain. It earned him a tired sigh from McCree.

Seb walked around the siren's confinement with both deep eyes squinted in scrutiny. Oblivious to the racket his heavy footsteps were making on the wooden floor, the big man scratched at his stubby jaw before crouching low at the base of the glass rectangle on his third round. There, he tapped at the surface with his thick knuckles, and upon hearing dull thuds resonating back at him, he shook his head, stood back up, and kicked at the spot he had just looked over.

"No can do, boss," he hummed lowly, almost as though he couldn't bear to hear the defeat in his own voice. "It was already heavy without the creature in it, and that was even before we began assembling it here!"

"So in other words--" Thomas stepped in and gulped, "--there's no way to bring the case outside, captain."

Thomas' and Seb's report gave McCree something to think about. Hanzo should be able to make it overboard, or the sunken treasures of the Santa Maria will forever remain unused and forgotten. Legend had it that before this royal ship was sunk by other pirates, it carried the king of Spain's gold along with some other valuables that were given to the crew as gifts. Jesse knew without a doubt that the legend was true; and the tale was persuasion enough for them to have come here in the first place.

"Such a shame if all that gold would go to waste...think of all the shit I can buy..."

The outlook of becoming rich sent the gears in Jesse's clever head turning to full force. The treasure was down there, right underneath The Huckleberry--the answer to a lot of their financial instability and the access to a few drinks at a bar.

So close, and yet--

Jesse clenched the hand that held his bearded chin.

It was all one cruel irony, a tantalizing tease brought by none other than life itself.

He then looked over to Hanzo, who sat there idly in the waters that swished about his confinement. His calm facade clearly showed how he couldn't care less for his captor's predicament, and the coolness he emanated irritated the pirate by a thread.

True, the case was too big to fit through the tiny cabin door, but when Jesse paused for a moment and let himself lose in the silence all around, he realized the hidden options he hadn't yet explored and smiled at the genius he had come up with. Once again, he has proven to himself why he was deserving to be Captain Jesse McCree--the coolest pirate of the seven seas.

Without saying another word, McCree headed over to the glass case, bent from the waist down, and plunged two hairy arms into the water.

Hanzo blanched at the sudden action, before his face twisted in appal. He gathered himself as best he could, pressing the lap of his tail right against his chest.

"W-What are you doing?" the siren inquired, voice cracking with frustration and perplexity. Jesse didn't reply nor regarded his question, instead the pirate advanced towards him, bringing a pair of deft hands closer to his being.

Talk about disregard for personal space.

"McCree-!"

Hanzo felt a gripping touch under the bend of his tail and on the small of his back, and in less than a second, he was hoisted out of the water and plastered right against the pirate's chest. The little performance earned the two of them weird looks from Seb and Thomas, and it only escalated the moment Jesse stepped out of the cabin and into the light of the crowded deck.

However, the unconventional sight quickly flew past the shaggy men's heads, and they erupted into cheers and applause at the sight of every sailor's demise being paraded out like a prized game.

Hanzo put the squirming and the sass aside for awhile, his main focus holding onto his captor until the faze leaves his system. His nostrils picked up the scent musk and a much more tame smell of tobacco essence on the pirate's light cotton shirt. Looking up at Jesse's scraggly face, the siren noticed a flash of peace settling in his orbs, which was peculiar, considering he was at his wit's end with this whole treasure agenda of his.

What could be up that man's head?

Unbeknownst to Hanzo, the treasure was the last thing in Jesse's head. It was just there, sitting in the back of his mind. The staggering noise of his crew failed to unnerve him, and the water permeating into one of his only decent clothes left was as irrelevant to him as a splinter on a ship.  
Having Hanzo by his side, right next to him, made his chest swell in triumph and pride. It was one of those rare moments--especially with the merman's grouchy persona--and he basked in his glory as best he could.

It felt good having Hanzo in his arms.

Most of the men onboard tailed behind their captain as he headed towards the lee side of the ship, more specifically, towards the red wooden balustrade. They weren't going to miss the chance to see history in the making--oh no, not when it involved throwing a siren overboard.

Hanzo retracted his arms from around the pirate's neck once the blue of the sea was within his field of sight. McCree pulled him away, setting the merman over roaring waves and The Santa Maria's resting place.

"Okay, darlin'," Jesse piped from beside him, "ya know what to do."

And just like that, the contact of flesh broke from beneath Hanzo, and he felt the dizzying pull of gravity swallowing him whole. Everything that happened next was a vague blur; all he registered soon afterwards was a sharp sting on his side, an impact, and then unsettling stillness.

Opening his eyes, the merman looked around him. A few specks of white foam floated here and there, but other than that, it was blue--a big blanket of blue that kept him in peaceful suspension.

I'm...home.

He hadn't even realized he had smiled, or that his tail moved around in graceful strokes, relieved from the insufficient size of the glass confinement back at the cabin. Those long weeks of recovery have rendered the limb numb, almost insensate, and to have it stretched out again in the cold rejuvenating waters of the sea--why, he could feel the very energy coursing through his veins right now.

He recognized the sudden high swirling inside him, adrenaline, and his chest thumped rapidly as a spark of idea crossed his eyes. Without thinking, he aimed his focus onto the never-ending void before him and darted with the speed of a marlin chased by fishermen. The water parted through his body like a torpedo, and though he was fast, the nagging drag behind him brought by the chains sent his spirits crashing down to reality. He realized with a brokenheart that the freedom he felt was futile and a facade of hope.

He figured he might as well just comply with the pirate's demands and get some gold.

Heading downwards, the siren found the familiar signs of life he had grown up with: a few reefs here and there, and its residents the colorful fish. They didn't seem daunted in the slightest by the intimidating merman coming their way, and they went ahead with their routine feeding sessions as though this was a normal everyday occurrence.

Further down, the water darkened and dimmed, a great contrast to the sparkles that shone like stars in the depths. A lightbulb shone atop his head as he dared to investigate.

"That must be The Santa Maria," he thought to himself, diving deeper into colder waters.

Upon closer inspection, Hanzo found that the fish still thrived despite the darkness, and what used to be a proud vessel of voyage was now pelted with colonies of coral inside and out, a shaking testimony to the infinite power Mother Nature had over the forces of man.

The simple things in the ocean held power much greater than anything he had ever experienced on land. Being surrounded by all this beauty whenever he pleased was one of the joys of being a merfolk.

And a luxury he decided to indulge in at the moment.

Sure he and McCree had an oral agreement of replacement; which meant business for Hanzo. But he would be a bigger fool to not appreciate and enjoy the view while he had this chance to do so.

So he did.


	4. Fish Grow Feet

"Okay, pull 'im back up, boys!" Captain McCree yelled, looking at the four men that held the pulley's thick handle. Among of them was a familiar face, Seb, and judging from the grit in his teeth, he was not too keen on bringing the siren back on board.

Beside the helve was an improvised wide cylinder meant to gather a loop of the chain connected to Hanzo with each turn brought by the handle. It resembled more of a crane, really, only this one had a fulcrum instead of being purely a horizontal projection. The more the men at the side circled the helve, more chains would be gathered in the rotation, and ergo, the higher Hanzo would be brought up.

With him, hopefully, was some of the sunken treasure he promised to get.

He had thrown a worn canvas knapsack beforehand into the water for Hanzo to put whatever he could find in. At the moment, McCree expected a heavy sack, with the threads stretching and almost coming off the sides sort of thing. He rubbed his hands in anticipation and waited with a hairline of patience for the merman to come up.

Was it really the treasure he was so excited to see though?

The captain sneered at his own thought. Of course he wanted nothing more than to see the treasure! This was what it was all about in the first place--for gold, glory, and the occasional barrels of liquor.

"Here he comes, boss!" a crew member yelled, pointing at something overboard. "And it looks like he's got plenty of 'em gold."

"Is it a lot, Alonzo?" McCree found himself getting even giddier with the anticipation.

"It would be enough to last us all a month in luxury," the other mate confimed. "Maybe even get the ship a handsome new sail. That one's a little worn, don't you think so boss?"

"Anything for The Huckleberry, Alon-"

Jesse stopped in his tracks and stared in awe at the siren looming over the deck. They had hauled him far too high for their own good, and they needed to loosen some chain loops to bring him back down.

"Here, I'll get 'im," the captain offered, stretching his arms out to act as a nest for the descending merman to land on. Well, the treasure was his main and number one priority, but he guessed Hanzo's well-being also held some degree of importance in all this. If he so much as bruises his scaly butt, who knows how long until McCree would get another round of treasure!

"Easy, easy," the captain called out, watching the dangling merman above squirming in discomfort and burden. The worn bag did look heavy, and he even carried an ornate vase in one arm. McCree grinned in approval, mesmerized by the blinding glare of the high sun shining down on the piling loot.

At last, Hanzo was lowered enough to be set in the pirate's strapping arms. There, the rest of the crew grabbed and nabbed at the coins and artifacts off the merman's loose grasp. They examined and inspected it inside out just to be certain that this was the real deal. True enough, they weren't disappointed.

"Alright, darlin'. Let's get ya back inside." McCree smiled, swerving a heel to face the door of his quaint, little cabin. "Ya done well today. Can't wait to see what you'll do tomorrow."

"It's...sweltering," Hanzo panted, unwillingly pressing his face against his captor's stubby jaw in a desperate attempt of getting solace under a little bit of shade. Of all the times Jesse left his hat in the cabin, this one was by far the most horrendous.

"I'm sorry, Han." Jesse shrugged his shoulders as he jested, paying no regard to his prisoner's sagging weight. "Guess I'm just too much for some to handle."

When he heard no snarky remark blaring against his eardrums, McCree looked down and found the siren with his eyes shut close, lips parted to let the cool air in and out. Thin locks of black hair matted his pale face, and the glossy sheen on them dulled as the sea water evaporated in the heat.

The pirate kicked the door open and immediately placed the merman back inside his glass confinement. All at once the hollow throbbing in Hanzo's temple alleviated, and he submerged his body to get rid of the scorching temperature on his skin.

"Hey, ya alright now, sweetheart?" Jesse asked, looming above beside him.

"I am," Hanzo replied after getting his breathing even. "I just...I need to rest."

"Alright." McCree nodded, heading over to a familiar metal bucket set atop his mahogany table. "You know, me and the others have caught some lunch. Here, I'll give ya this fine piece of tuna-"

"No, I don't want any," the siren replied readily, wiping the hair off his periphery. His stomach didn't really desire the thought of food at the moment, and it would be a shame to just spill his insides out."I've already had seaweed."

"Oh, alright then." The other was at loss for words. "Well, get some rest."

"I would, if you remove this bothersome binding off me!"

"Sheesh, no need to get all riled up, Hanzo. I was going to remove it soon enough."

"Excuses. You would have forgotten had I not reminded you."

Rolling his blue eyes, McCree knelt on one knee to properly remove the leather armor of sorts. Once finished, Hanzo stretched his firm biceps, arched his sore back, and sighed, more than grateful for the caress of relief on his torso.

"Well, see you tomorrow I guess," the captain began, scratching the back of his neck, "and while you were gone, I took the liberty of installing a curtain between us to give you your privacy."

Hanzo looked to his left, where a long piece of opaque teal cloth was pleated and gathered neatly against the wall nearest to the door. Following his gaze up, he saw a strong piece of thin chord running adjacent from one side of the room to another. It seemed sturdy enough, unfazed by the fabric's heavy weight.

"I figured you'd want some time to yourself--trust me you'll need it; especially if you'll be spendin' some time with us," McCree continued with a chuckle. "A man's gotta have his space. I'd know--I've been with this crazy bunch for years."

"But I'm not exactly...man," Hanzo droned, a warm blush spreading across his sharp cheeks. Never in a million years would it ever cross his mind that this mercenary, lying, carefree, over-confident pirate would even have a fiber of thoughtfulness in his being--or kindness for that matter!

"Well, man or not, I'm sure you'll appreciate it later on."

"I do," the siren confirmed. "Thank you."

A small smile spread the pink of Hanzo's lips, and Jesse couldn't resist curving his own upon the rare sight unfolding before him. "Didn't know you could smile, darlin'. You should do it more often, it suits you."

The merman's eyes widened in embarrassment, and his grin ceased to a halt. "W-Whatever. I'll do what I want," he huffed, flustered and stammering. "Bring the drapes down, I want to sleep."

"Alright." McCree raised a confused, bushy brow. "Just...just call when you need anythin'."

What was that about?

He went over and untied the string keeping it all gathered in the middle. On cue, the fabric fanned out, and McCree grabbed one end and dragged it along the entire length of the chord. Hanzo's side of the room immediately dimmed to a great degree, and nostalgia hit, reminding him of the cold ocean depths which he once found comfort in.

So he sat there in the enveloping silence and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before everything was good and nice...back in the days when he never felt alone.

***

The night bore no freezing winds nor the message of a heavy storm that would test the ship's resistance against monstrous waves and angry thunderstorms. Instead, The Huckleberry floated and bobbed sleepily on tiny waves as she carried her resting crew, among of which was the captain McCree atop his improvised crate-bed of sorts.

He snored a little bit louder than the steady evening breeze that whistled outside. He had his brown hat over his face, as usual, and one sleeved arm dangling on the side like a dejected limp noodle. The pale moonlight shone through a dusty circular window located beside Jesse and accented the angles of his features and the creases on his light shirt. The glow gave the cabin a peaceful feel altogether, as messy as it was as Hanzo had pressed on earlier.

Speaking of Hanzo, the merman laid in slumber as well, supine and vulnerable in his glass container like a dead fish that sunk to the bottom of the sea. His black tresses rose in the water, framing his face like eerie tentacles, masking the tensing of his jaw, the pursing of his lips, and the darting of his orbs beneath his heavy eyelids.

"Genji..." he murmured, his brows knitting in aggravation. "Genji..."

A flash of bright light appeared before the darkness, and in no less than a heartbeat, the siren's eyes shot open, and his body jerked up in an involuntary fit.

"Genji!"

His frantic breathing was the only thing he heard, and upon realizing that whatever he saw beneath his eyelids was not out here to grab a hold of him--or for him to grab a hold of--his tense body loosened, and his rigid spine curved forward as he slackened in relief.

And disappointment.

"Han?" McCree's voice came up from the other side of the curtain, making the merman flinch in surprise. Jesse sat up like a drunk man, catching his hat at the last moment with inactive reflexes, the fatigue very much clear on his features.

When he heard no reply, the captain's senses sharpened, and his eyes adjusted to the tinted dimness of the quarters.

"Han?" he called again.

There was a sharp intake of breath beyond the curtain, then came a heavy thud that shook the wooden floors. A dark, inky substance started seeping from Hanzo's side of the room and out to McCree's in gushes. The liquid flowed close to the mahogany table, where it halted at its feet in irregular curves.

"Hanzo, what the hell-!"

Flinging the cloth over to the side, Jesse found the siren's pale, naked back staring him right at the face; apart from that, Hanzo sat in front of the toppled glass case, atop the watery mess he had made, and he did not look like he would be moving anytime soon.

The only unsettling thing about all this was the unmistakable stillness the merman emitted. There was no twitch or throb or any sort of movement coming from the guy; not even a trivial expansion of his broad shoulders to indicate his breathing! The pirate's heart raced with his mind, so harshly that his chest began to hurt.

"Han?" McCree called out once more, approaching his captive with slow, uncertain steps. "What's goin' on with ya?"

Looking down over the merman, Jesse saw a shift of movement surging about Hanzo's tail; more specifically, the iridescent blue hue of the scaly limb. The color lost its silky luster, and what once resembled the depths of the cerulean seas turned into something bleaker, something much more underwhelming.

Something that resembled the color of skin.

"What's goin' on with your tail, darlin'?" Jesse asked, the concern in his voice wiped away by perplexion.

At last the merman's resistance broke, and he craned his neck to gaze at the captain, who cast his shadow and loomed above Hanzo like a bird of prey.

But instead of giving the answer McCree has been waiting for a while, Hanzo raised himself up, prompting the captain to stare at the ground below.

And there it was--a pair of small, pallid feet that supported two stocky, shaking legs.

McCree zoned out, focus still on the appendages.

Hanzo has feet.

Hanzo the merman has feet.

A merman has feet.

A sharp slap to the cheek tore the captain from his reverie, and he looked up at Hanzo's face to find him scowling once more.

"Turn around, fool! Have you no respect for my decency?" Hanzo scolded, cupping the private junction of his thighs as he turned an angle to further shield it from the pirate's mindless gaze.

"You...you have feet!" McCree exclaimed, the stinging pain on his cheek failing to offend his state of shock and marvel. "I-I mean...!"

Grabbing the hanging cloak nearby, he threw it out towards the merman in a futile attempt of maintaining composure within himself. The cloth landed in a less-than-graceful manner over Hanzo's head and draped him whole, making him seem like some dejected soul. What a coincidence, for he felt like one too!

Sighing, he failed to see how he could be further humiliated and only grumbled in the blanket of darkness.

"Thank you, pirate."


	5. Red Sky in the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup my homies

"Are ya done puttin' clothes on, darlin'?" McCree asked from his side of the room, where he rocked on his heels and played with his trusty--but empty--revolver. "Ya know, you could come out naked and I'd still dig it."

"Your blatant seduction won't work on me," Hanzo fired back with the sound of ruffling cloth. "And what is this? Why do you men wear two pants? Why is the other one shorter than the other?"

"It's called underwear, Hanzo." Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose, blotches of red barely visible on his brown face. "Um...ya know, it's pretty neat, and I have a lot just like it so you can keep that one if ya like."

A light thump came from the other side. "I have a feeling in my gut that says I shouldn't even have touched that, so...I'll pass."

"So..." McCree began, drowning in thick awkward tension, "about your tail-"

"It disappears when a merfolk strays out of water, or when there is not enough to suffice my needs," Hanzo cut sharply. If it were possible, his steely stare would have burned a hole into the curtain and it would have disintegrated into a pile of warm, dry ash. "If you're worried about your treasure, don't be. I'll still be able to swim; my tail should return once I go back into the sea."

"Then I guess we're still set on treasure huntin' later?" McCree clasped his hands together.

"Yes. I guess so."

After the interesting little discourse, the siren spread the curtain some distance apart and stepped out to the light for the pirate to inspect in greater detail. Jesse held his chin in between his fingers and nodded back with strained smiles and "you look great"s pouring out of his mouth. McCree's eyes swept the expanse of the merman's stocky body, draped in a gossamer shirt he let him borrow for the sake of modesty. The hem came down halfway to Hanzo's knees, and his muscular arms failed to push through the length of the loose sleeves, proving it to be too long for his own good. McCree also noticed that his captive lost the brown pants altogether, and he looked up without a word, searching for a reasonable explanation in the merman's tawny orbs.

Hanzo was quick to sense the pirate's burning stare, and he in turn, returned the favor with an equally furrowed glare. "What?" he spat.

"I gave ya pants for a reason, darlin'."

"Your pants are too long--they make me trip, and its heavy to wear," the merman replied, curling his lips in impatience and irritation. What was so hard to get?

"Well, we can't have ya walkin' around lookin' like that." Jesse clicked his tongue and ran his palm over his tired features.

"Don't you have anything else? Something I can actually manage?"

The captain skated his eyes from the siren's face and unto the low recessed ceiling above. His face shone with the glow of thought, or maybe it was the candle light reflecting on his skin; either way, Hanzo found the sight to be rather pleasing--a good mix of handsome and daunting, a look that commanded the stage and demanded the respect of those around him.

Wait, the siren stopped in his tracks. Did he really just think that?

While Hanzo drowned in the carnality of his reveries, McCree had gone over to a large chest sitting beside his improvised bed of crates and pushed it out of the shadows with little to no effort. Then, the captain sat on an ankle and eyed the lid, the intricate iron details rusting throughout the ages it has spent dejected in The Huckleberry. The rounded leather top was peppered with dust, and it made Jesse scratch his scalp the longer he had to look at it.

How long has it been since he had actually cleaned it?

Grabbing a matching silver key from a tiny drawer on the mahogany table, McCree was astounded to have still remembered where he had put it after all these years. The key was set in place, then a turn, and immediately the lock gave off with a resounding click.

Hanzo craned his neck to see over the man's broad shoulders and even in the shadows, he could still discern the gleam of callow trinkets and expensive silk catching the candle light. His interest was piqued.

"Well Han, this is the best one I've got," Jesse said, getting back up on his feet while holding a satiny bundle in his arms. "Got this bad boy back when I sailed to warmer coasts. Tried wearin' it, but t'was a lil' too small on me. Maybe this will fit ya better."

He tossed it over, and the siren caught it in his hands. Under his fingers, the fabric felt soft, smooth like glass, slippery like oil. Hanzo put it forth before him and spread it out to get a better view. The garment resembled a royal robe; a long robe that did not require the presence of pants for decency. This alone already plucked a chord of approval on Hanzo's part. And the curving patterns woven with lustrous thread weren't that bad on the eyes either!

"This looks better," he said under his breath. "I'll take it. Here."

All at once Hanzo began to strip, shedding the light shirt for the latter, more ornate article. McCree took it upon himself to avert his eyes and focus on the dusty stack of atlas books piled on one side of the table, then he puckered his lips and whistled a sea shanty he memorized with all of his heart. He did anything--anything at all--to distract himself from eyeing the merman's naked form, standing right before him seemingly without a care in the world.

One after the other, Hanzo pulled the loose sleeves up to settle them on his bony shoulders before securing the robe together at the waist with a long black sash Jesse added was part of the get-up.

When all was done, Hanzo turned to McCree. "Does it look okay?" he asked, sweeping a short lock of hair away from his face.

"Not bad," Jesse said, this time with complete genuineness. "You look like a million bucks." He also noticed that Hanzo hadn't tied it up properly, exposing a little bit of chest than what was intended. But Jesse was not one to mind.

"Why would I look like a million boxes?" The siren put up an incredulous face, twisted in confusion.

"That's not...um, you look wonderful, was what I meant to say." The captain cleared his throat and was quick to correct himself, determined not to trouble still waters. "You look great, darlin'."

"Thank you," the merman's voice was quiet, hushed. It sounded like who he was the pirate first knew him to be: wary, aloof, secretive. Jesse felt a pang of worry spreading in the center of his chest, thinking that maybe he had upset his prisoner in any way. But once he saw Hanzo grinning back at his sincere compliment, McCree dropped his urge to worry and let it slide, content in the knowledge that things were starting to lighten up between the two of them.

***

In the early hours of morning, The Huckleberry bobbed against calm sea waves that mirrored the aura of collectiveness and tranquility the ship exhibited under a blaring red sky. Her crew, on the other hand, preferred to react differently. Some took their bandanas off their heads, others took the liberty of securing the masts and making sure that each knot on each rope was as tight as possible. Something was coming, and it didn't take a detective to know that whatever this was caused the look of terror to be painted on every crew member's face--especially the youngest rookie, Thomas.

"Cap'n!" Seb called out, placing a palm on his chest as he ran towards Jesse emerging from the cabin. "We've put ourselves in a real pickle here."

"Why, what did Thomas do this time?" McCree groaned, putting his signature hat over his head while taking in the vibrant sight before him.

"It ain't 'bout Thomas, Cap'n. There's a storm comin' o'er--and she looks like a big one too," Seb cried out, too caught up in his panic to notice the merman standing idly behind his captain.

Hanzo couldn't help looking up at the sky, its ominous luridness drawing him in. All at once he understood the men's blanched faces, and as his brown eyes shifted towards the sordid, flapping sails, he knew they had to dock somewhere fast and spend the night in town, perhaps at an inn; at least when the storm hits, they'll be out of its wrathful range.

Of course, Jesse knew he'll be able to face whatever life decided to throw at him, but his main concern was the well-being of his beloved ship and her crew. If The Huckleberry won't survive the torrential onslaught, then his men wouldn't only be broke and defenseless, they'd also be stranded. And when that happens, it would only be a matter of time before prying eyes recognize them and turn them over to the magistrates of England. This, Jesse couldn't let happen.

With newfound determination, the captain turned to his men and barked orders, pointing fingers here and there, fazing and unnerving the men onboard.

"Okay y'all, get your shit together. We need to find a port fast and dock the ship--come on, get to it--git!"

Hanzo stared in the sidelines and gaped at the way his captor took charge and commanded the whole riotous fleet. Jesse became an entirely different man, and it was something so mesmerizing the just couldn't get his head around it. Perhaps the pirate's jaunty and lenient demeanor may have led him to assume that the pirate was incapable of doing daunting, mature tasks.

Clearly Hanzo stood corrected.

The newly acquired knowledge struck the siren with such immense awe that he failed to notice a wooden bucket flying in towards him. And when it hit, Hanzo fell to the panelled floor with an inane thud; his vision blurring before it completely clasped like a startled clam.


	6. Promise or No Promise

"Han? Han!...Hanzo listen to me. Wake up!"

There was a dizzying haze of vertigo, and then the merman watched as the stars spinning about his vision disappeared into nothingness. He then hurriedly sat up to regard the pirate crouched down, calling out his name.

"What happened?" the siren asked, rubbing the sore spot on his temple that throbbed incessantly with firm, shaky fingertips. The pain quickly abated into a dull hum, and while it still pestered him, Hanzo was grateful that he was knocked out for the most part, not having to go through pain that was probably a hundred times worse than what he's feeling right now.

"Freak bucket flew in out of nowhere," McCree answered, debating on whether or not he should touch Hanzo to help him get back up on his newly acquired feet. "Probably fell from above 'cause of the wind; Storm's pickin' up fast--look at the horizon."

Swiveling in his spot, Hanzo slapped McCree's hand away and pulled his weight up to get a better view of the sea beyond the ship's walls.

And there it was.

From the horizon up, it was a menacing gradient of darkening shades of gray. Gigantic clouds that could double the size of mighty castles rose and rolled forth like puffy, billowing smoke from a wildfire, while faint strands of sirrius wisps littered the higher parts of the heavens like sharp feathers.  
Beneath The Huckleberry, the waves calmly heaved back and forth, exuding a certain calm that eased Hanzo a little bit.

He hadn't even noticed that the sky had lost its luridness.

As the merman's eyes drew deeper than the frothy, undulating surface of the sea, his heart sank further as he took in how cold, dark, and uninviting the waters appeared to be; merman or not, even Hanzo had his reservations about diving into something he couldn't clearly discern.

So much for a swim.

From behind Seb rattled the panelled floor and ran up to McCree as he heaved a breath and broke out into a sweat. "Cap'n," he said, "Alonzo spotted land--"

"That's great!" McCree exclaimed with a relieved grin.

"--but it's really far!"

And just like that, Jesse's spirits were beaten into a pulp. The very thought of The Huckleberry being battered by the power of the ocean and breaking apart under the veil of a storm...well, he just couldn't stomach to even think about it.

"Well there's a storm comin' in." McCree slammed a fist unto the main mast, venting his anger out on the hard wood. "And if that storm reaches my ship, our asses are done for!"

Hanzo only stared, rubbing his sleeved arms as the air blew colder and colder. It surprised him that he actually wanted to alleviate the man's concern and do something to get his mind off his dear ship's impending doom. But as skilled and smart as he thinks he is, the siren knew he could do little about the captain's perturbation.

McCree reached into his pocket and fished out a familiar brown cylinder Hanzo had grown accustomed to. The tobacco roll was set in between the pirate's teeth before it was lit amber at the front with a silver whatsit the merman yet has to know the name of.

A lighter? Was it called a lighter?

Hanzo stood so deep in thought, he had not noticed The Huckleberry treading closer into a territory filled with giant waves that crashed into jagged black rocks, rising out of the water like the spikes of a giant sea urchin.

At the sight of it, McCree blanched and immediately headed up the ship's steering wheel, prompted by utter despair. His eyes strayed to the sails, which curved fully to take in the crashing speeds of the whistling gales.

"Son of a-"

The captain was cut off in his expletive as the ship collided with a hard mass, most probably one of those menacing rocks that laid ahead. Everybody was knocked off or hit by something one way or another, and Hanzo, who wasn't so used with his recent appendages, fell flat on his stomach as soon as the planed surface tilted to the side.

"Ngh-!" the siren grunted as another collision shook the ship, this time with a mountain of sea water surging over the balustrades and flooding the deck.

There was a slap against Hanzo's calf, and looking down at the length of his legs, he watched as scales took form, adding an iridescant glean to the pallor of his skin. The peachy color of his periphery morphed back into blotches of a familiar royal blue hue, and before long, the tail was back: wiggling and swishing water about the deluged place.

This was it...the way the gods planned for him to get back to the sea and out of this hellhole. All he had to do was crawl a few feet away to the downed side and jump out over that side.

He'd be free.

"Captain! The merman be out out of his confinement!" Seb called out amidst the howling winds, but it barely caught the attention of McCree.

"He's the least of our problems," he replied as he dug his fingers into the top of his faded cowboy hat, desperately trying to keep it locked onto the top of his brown head. "We need to get the ship out of them rocks."

"It's no good." Alonzo stepped in. "Even if we manage to break free of the rocks' hold, the waves will still crash against us, pushing us back here anyway. It's futile!"

"Well, I can't just do nothin'!"

While the two crewmen argued, Hanzo eyed the raging waves lapping up the rocks with a glare of determination. He propped his torso up on his elbows and waddled over to the cant side of the ship where he mustered the adrenaline spurring inside himself.

And he made a jump for it.

Seb saw the whole thing unfold before him in slow, time-killing motion, and he didn't even had the chance to utter a squeak, or step a small step; the siren was free, and that was the end of it.

"The siren is free," he whispered under his breath, then he yelled so that everyone on The Huckleberry may hear him, "The siren has escaped!"

A bright flash of lightning struck close to the water, and thunder rumbled throughout the dark skies, tearing the air like a crack of a whip. It forced everyone's eyes up, and as if nothing could get any worse, well, rain started pouring down in hard, bullet-like drops.   
"Shit," was all McCree had to say. He didn't know which hurt him more: the fact that his beloved ship was a goner, or that Hanzo still chose to escape despite his acts of kindness towards the merman.

The medications were hella expensive too.

His mind was tired, but the pirate refused to acknowledge the fatigue, especially under these terrible conditions. Without thought, the shipmaster headed to the side of the wheel, desiring to talk to Alonzo about one last resort he had in mind. However, his inconsideration for his exhaustion pestered like a chisel on wood, and when he went down the second step of the stairs leading to the deck, he miscalculated and lost footing on the drenched wood.

The frazzled men could only watch as the great Jesse McCree slid down the slope of the deck and tossed out into the sea like a floppy, soggy noodle. He was gone in a snap.

Beneath the frothing waves looming above his head, Hanzo took a moment to appreciate how the light hit from above, giving him a different perspective of watching the waves from the surface-dwelling humans. The view was like a never ending magical portal to another realm, and it mesmerized the merman; so much so that it took him a few more seconds to register that a there was a loud slap against the water, and a familiar figure drifted down, unconscious and vulnerable.

The captain.

Hanzo flapped his tail fin and swam down to catch Jesse. In the merman's strapping arms, the pirate felt like nothing, weighed like a feather, and Hanzo realized with a whisper in his ears that right then and there, he could just take advantage of the situation and drown the man while he still had a chance.

After all, he's done it countless times to other sailors.

To his surprise, the cold hand of terror grip at his heart, and he nearly dropped McCree into the dark abyss that loomed beneath them. He couldn't bring himself to do whatever his protocol wanted him to do. It was as simple as that.

He tried telling himself that this decision will later benefit him, one way or another. So despite the internal struggle brewing inside his head, the siren surfaced back over the water and looked for the nearest sign of land.

Seb's words finally breathed life, for his claim of the scarcity of land was true. In desperation, Hanzo laid Jesse supine on the biggest, flattest boulder that jutted out from the sea. There, the siren debated on whether or not he should slap the pirate senseless to bring him back into consciousness. He had seen some people do it, and at the moment, there was no such thing as a bad idea.

"Wake up, fool!" Hanzo exclaimed, raising a palm and striking it across McCree's face.

No response.

The gears in Hanzo's head were turning at full speed. He resorted to thinking things through, and he tried his hardest to collect his being and remain as calm as possible.

Ok, ok. Calm down. Calm down Hanzo. He just needs air, and there's a lot of it up here--so why isn't he waking up yet?!

He contemplated on slapping the pirate again when an option sparked inside his head.

Would it really work?

Or a better question would be: Is it a proper time to do it?

Glancing down, Hanzo caught a glimpse of a faded red streak trailing down from the pirate's matting brown tresses and down to his defined, stubby jaw. With a sigh, the siren held the captain close, looked up to the sky, and uttered a few words.

It was a whisper in the wind, and yet after that, everything twisted into a hurricane. Waves grew monstrous, the wind picked up into gales. The sea turned darker; there was no doubt that whatever the siren said had set off a chord of indignity within the ocean. A large wave then rose, and cast an ominous shadow that easily loomed over their measly forms. Hanzo tightened his grip on McCree though his face remained as stern as a rock; the wave lunged forward and swallowed the two whole, and a deafening splash was all that every shaken member of the battered Huckleberry heard.

***

It was red. Bright.

Light continued to pervade in the darkness, prompting Jesse to open his eyes despite their cumbersome heaviness.

Oh why did his consciousness have to nag about being so responsible?

But he did them anyway, and all that greeted him was the glare of a bright sun with majestic seagulls flying miles over his form. There was a wet, soft cushion under him, and without looking he deduced it to be sand. Like, what else could it possibly be?

"I see you are awake." A familiar voice came from beside him. "Don't sit up: Your head has a slight concussion, but it's nothing to worry about."

Nevertheless, McCree let the words pass out through the other ear and lifted his torso to sit up and look at his favorite merman. Immediately, the dull throb in his head morphed into a sharp pain that surged in his temples, and Hanzo rolled his eyes, watching McCree as he succumbed to the pain and laid back down.

"Listen," Hanzo chided, getting white sand all over his arms as he crawled his way towards the captain. "Your ship and crew are safe; I've managed to...well, it's a long story. And you are in no condition to process other thoughts than your well-being."

"You did all that?" McCree couldn't help the grin that spread his defined beard. "I thought y'all merfolk would run away from a pirate anytime you can: promise or no promise."

In response, Hanzo sat up and propped his weight on one arm before saying, "You know, I'm still open to that suggestion. I could drown you right now and run away; think of how convenient it would be for me--I don't have to pay you back anything."

"But you didn't."

The simple statement that slipped off McCree's lips placed peppers of blushes sprinkled across the siren's face. He turned his head to the side, failing to catch the captain's triumphant grin.

Because Jesse realized in that very moment, that his sorry excuse of a being was actually worth something of value to the merman.


	7. Gabriel Reyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe...fuck

Despite Hanzo's earlier warning, McCree insisted that the merman divulge how he had managed to save The Huckleberry as well as its crew and captain under the rage of that vehement storm.

Hanzo's hesitation was a hindrance, but a few minutes later, he gave in and decided to just tell Jesse everything to hush his begging and grant them both their peace of mind.

"Alright," Hanzo sighed, watching as his lower half turned into a pair of feet once more. How unfortunate that he discarded his borrowed garment from McCree when he plunged back into the sea--he had no choice but to go back to square one and instinctively cover the private junction in between his pale thighs.

"Don't look or I swear I will drown you," the siren groaned, looking over to the side as his face reddened.

McCree got up on shaky feet with some difficulty and scanned the stretch of the white shoreline to look for something that might be of use.

Clumps of brown kelp, a bunch of seaweed, some driftwood, a washed up tree branch--

And then, a familiar faded fabric riding atop the undulating waves came into his periphery.

Could it be?

Going nearer, the captain found that it was indeed what he thought it to be upon closer inspection: Hanzo's borrowed garment--and the black sash was swishing nearby! It floated about like pair of tentacles, or a snake to be more precise.

"Hold still, darlin'," McCree said, blue eyes never wavering from the object of interest, "I'll be right back."

The merman watched through the curtain of hair that flew over his face how the pirate set foot in the salwater and waddled to the bundle like a newly hatched penguin. Hanzo's lips curled up without his notice as he continued to observe the man with intrigue and amusement.

It made him happy that he was right to spare Jesse's life.

"I got it!" McCree hollered from where he stood. Lifting the soggy fabric over his head like a prized trophy, he made his way back to shore whilst battling the persistent drag of the water and the suction of the sand beneath his feet.

To save effort, he tossed the garment straight towards Hanzo and told him to wear it how he had awhile back.

At first the merman stared it down like he would a rotting piece of carcass; he knew well enough that if he wore the sopping thing as it is, then it will stick onto his skin like glue, and keep the cold on his body like a defective blanket that can't do its one job in the world.

Well, it was still better than being naked, Hanzo tried telling himself as he shuddered at the sea breeze that stung his bare finned back.

"Hurry, sweetpea," McCree instructed, crossing his arms above the siren. "I wanna see my ship again, see what needs repairin'...or rather, who needs repairin'."

Jesse said the last part so inaudibly under his breath, but Hanzo's keen ears picked up on it nonetheless, and he rolled his tawny eyes in incredulity. "If you want to know everything, just follow me, and let me do the talking this time."

McCree nodded, brought his belt further up on his waist, and flashed a killer grin. "By all means lead the way then, darlin'."

Sticking by the white cliffwall that towered nearby, the two of them treaded along the path of vegetation that adhered and grew at the foot of the cliff. It was a long stretch, but they soon spotted a sharp curve up ahead that lead to another side of the island.

"So, now will you tell me how you saved my ship?" Jesse whined, crossing his arms.

It earned him another eye roll from Hanzo. "Fine, if you insist so badly. All I did was plead to the sea god for his waves to carry all of us out of those rocks and into much safer lands. There, happy?"

"So, that's it? Magic stuff?"

"Yes," the merman snapped, "magic stuffs."

After a few more steps, they've finally reached the start of the curve.

"He washed your ship somewhere there," Hanzo muttered. He then gestured lazily to whatever awaited them on the turn, and once they've arrived, McCree nearly fell onto his knees as he gaped at the sight that greeted his tired, bloodshot blue eyes.

"My darlin'!" he yelled out, breaking off into a sprint that sent sand flying everywhere; he ran so fast he nearly stumbled once or twice face first onto the sand.

"Captain!" the familiar chorus of his mates rang from above the deck. They cheered, hollered, and screamed that their leader was alright. "Captain you found us! Don't worry, we're fine! Thomas here just got a little splinter but-"

"Yeah, yeah, that's great y'all," McCree murmured as he ran to the moist, barnacle covered side of the ship and hugged it as best he could. "Oh my baby, I thought I was gon' lose ya..."

To Hanzo however, the pirate resembled more of an outstretched starfish than man in this pose he was doing. In the end, he could only smile. And to add to his fortune, his silky garment was drying up in the sea breeze that blew without tire.

"Captain, there's a wee village up ahead," Seb called out, his booming declaration making Hanzo jump in startlement. His voice bore a thundering punch even from afar, and his words were as clear as glass, enunciated to perfection. It was a trait Hanzo had grown to admire.

"Really?" McCree asked, squinting his eyes as he was forced to look up at the glare of the climbing sun. "You mean up this cliff?"

"Ye."

"So in other words...we have to hike?"

"Ye."

"Damn." Jesse clicked his tongue as the exhaustion came back to his sore limbs again. "Fine, fine. We'll resupply and stay here overnight. In the mornin', we best be leavin'."

"A brilliant plan, captain!" Alonzo clapped from above, earning him incredulous looks from the rest of the crew.

"Also, while you were out, we took the liberty of tidyin' up the place," Seb added with a roll of his eyes, "t'was a wreck."

"I appreciate it," Jesse said, "now get down here y'all so we can trek as soon as possible."

"Aye, Cap'n!" And they all headed down by the handful.

***

The climb up was tedious if not risky with no real defined path to make their footing easier. Any moment, the ground beneath their soles could have been unstable and give out without warning, and the pirates would be lucky if they survived the fall with only a broken leg or a gashed limb.

"I see the top," McCree panted, hands on his knees as he hunched over to catch his breath. "Don't give up yet, men."  
"So...tired...!" Thomas groaned, a few feet lagging from the rest of his mates.

"Yer ain't the only one, lad."

Hanzo was doing surprisingly well than the rest of them combined. Or maybe it was his silence that gave the illusion of indifference. Either way, Jesse was rather impressed.

Finally, they have made it up the plane top, with all of their persons still intact. The first agenda that has made itself inside their heads was the need for a drink. Resupplying sat dejected at the back of their tired heads. A pint, a rustic atmosphere, and a table for them to put their feet up sounded like the greatest pick me up at the moment.

But of course, enforcing domination was essential in a pirate's life, and it was hardwired into Jesse's head. Which was why as soon as he swung the nearest pub's double doors open, he stood tall and made himself as powerful as he was able.

It made some people's heads turn, and the merman shrunk back. He did not like the attention he was getting.

"Alright men, go ahead and take whatever y'all want," McCree announced, "everythin's on me."

They all cheered, disturbing the peace and blowing everyone's eardrums off. To most of the guests' dismay, the pirates looked like they were going to be staying awhile.

"Why aren't you gettin' anythin', darlin'?" Jesse asked as soon as he realized that his shorter companion remained by his side. "Shy, are we?'

"Very." Hanzo made no effort in lying, and the next thing he knew was that his head was being ruffled by McCree's big hand.

"Here, I'll come with." The captain put an arm around the merman's shoulders as they set off to find some seats by the bartender. "And while we're at it, let's get to know each other better."

"Like an interrogation?"

"Don't think of it like that, darlin'," Jesse cooed, pinching Hanzo's chin in between his thumb and index, "think of it as our very first official date."

"Date? Like...what day it is today?" the siren scrunched his face in confusion. "I believe it's a Friday."

"Um..." the man bit his lip and graced it with his tongue, "let's just have a good time, alright?"

Hanzo nodded with a gentle smile. That he understood well.

"Alright buddy, me and my pal here will get a shot of your finest whiskey."

"One moment," the bartender said as he turned his back on them to prepare his customers' orders.

"Just sit back, darlin'. I understand that we're all pretty tired...so let's just take it easy."

"Typical Jesse," another unfamiliar voice came from behind them, and then, a shadow over their forms. "A  
real pirate knows better than to just take things easy."

McCree's mouth almost fell to his lap, and he snapped his head so quickly, both he and Hanzo thought it would pop out of his neck--or dislocated at the very least.

"No..."

"Oh yeah." It was a man: tall, dark, and handsome, with a muscular build that suggested many victories in the past. His lopsided grin bore a sharp white canine that contrasted the scraggliness of his short beard.

"What's wrong, Jesse? You've looked like you've seen a ghost. Aren't you at least going to say hi to your Captain Reyes?"


	8. Dropping Eves

Gabriel Reyes.

Hanzo has never heard the name before, but then again, he has never heard many names above the surface of the water.

"Jesse, who is this?" the merman asked, squinting his eyes to try and make out the man circling about the captain. He was certain that he'd never seen this man's face before--not even back at the marketplace.

"Who do we have here, chico?" Gabriel's focus was on Hanzo now. "A new recruit? Or something else entirely?"

From a nearer perspective, Hanzo's eyes caught another peculiar facet about his acquaintance that stirred his interest and regard altogether. The merman wanted to know the story behind the black eyepatch Gabriel wore over his right eye, and if his missing orb shone just as vibrantly as does his tawny left one. Every angle he turned, this pirate seemed to succeed in catching the attention of those within the vicinity, and every person he looked at, he was able to instill some sort of deference or fear through his sharp, lustrous glare.

And he did it all with only one eye.

The dark man's hand suddenly rose up from his side to grab a defined black lock of Hanzo's hair. He let the smooth strands slip through his fingers, but the siren recoiled, not at all too keen on relishing in the feel of the unfamiliar touch.

"Don't touch me," the merman spat under his breath, slapping away the hand that touched his tresses.

"Ah, a feisty one." Gabriel smiled, and scratched at the short tuft of stubble littering his hard chin. "Where'd ya get this one, McCree?"

"What are you doing here, Gabe?" Jesse asked, not at all answering the question thrown at him.

"What is anyone doing anyway?" Gabriel shot back. "Me and my crew were stuck in some storm. This island here's the nearest one in the lot."

"Going up here must be a pain for you then," Jesse snickered, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave a smug, lopsided smirk of triumph.

"What are you talking about? There was a stairway leading up to here from the docks. Don't tell me you anchored your ship at the back of the island."

A sheepish shade of red dusted McCree's tanned cheeks, and he veered beside him, giving Hanzo an incredulous look of disbelief with thick brown eyebrows raised for extra emphasis.

There was a front?

However, Hanzo only shrugged his shoulders and eyed the pirate in return with his standard nonchalance. One would think McCree would be more grateful that he had survived the ordeal on unforgiving waters; had the siren not used his magic, they'd all be dead, their sorry carcasses eaten and nibbled on by ignorant fish.

"Of course, what did I expect?" Gabriel sneered, shaking his head as he laughed. "Tonto."

The tails of the faded red kerchief tied around his head swished lightly with the disapproving gesture, and Hanzo wondered if the heat was even getting to him. From the looks if it, that wasn't the case.

"I'll have you know this dumbass plundered many of them ships and stole from the heart of the English palace itself--without a single damn scratch to show for it." Jesse paused for a moment. "Not sure I could say the same for yer eye though, partner."

Now it was the other's turn to look appalled, and the mortification seeped out of the cracks of his hard, unfazed facade--no matter  
how tightly he pursed his lips or how much he tried to cool his burning gaze down.

The thick veins at the back of his sun-kissed hand throbbed with intensity, and his scarred knuckles paled.

"You better watch that mouth of yours, Jesse. You might find that you've lost a few teeth in the morning."

"Look here, Gabe," McCree began, "you might have been my captain, but those days are over."

"Still doesn't mean you don't owe me, ingrate," the other snarled. "Those skills you have now, you learned that from me. That ship you use now, that was my ship. You are a filthy little thief, and you haven't changed at all from the little runt I picked up from the marketplace."

"Well thanks to me, that ship has basked in victories she wouldn't have been able to in the light of day under your rule. Huckleberry's got more to show under my wing."

"Apparently, you bastardized it too."

The tension was thick enough to cut, and Hanzo was suffocating in it along with Thomas and the rest of the crew. Everything stilled, save for the bartender who idly slid the two orders of whiskey over the countertop. But Hanzo no longer desired to try and drink this human specialty, and neither did McCree, the latter engrossed with this newfound competition between old rivals.

And anyway, he was far too thirsty for something else entirely.

"I need air," the merman quietly excused himself and turned a heel to walk out of the establishment.

Seconds after he left the scene, Jesse snapped his head towards Thomas and glared him down till the lad sweated his light clothing. "Follow him."

The rookie wasted no time and scrambled out of his seat to catch up with the siren's great strides. He could only hope that he hadn't gone back to the water, or McCree would kill him for it.

As for Gabriel, his brown orbs followed the fleeting lad with amusement until he vanished altogether, and he turned his focus back to the younger pirate captain whose eyes were already on him.

"You're new boyfriend gets bodyguards too?"

"He's not my-" Jesse held his tongue for a second before a lightbulb popped over his head, and he gave off a smug grin that suggested triumph and the familiar mischievous wit. "He's not just my boyfriend," he went on to say, "he's the love of my life."

"Oh." Gabriel was at loss for words as their intensities simmered down. He pointed at the shot of whiskey Hanzo didn't bother picking up, and Jesse lazily waved a hand in response, gesturing for the other to go ahead and take it.

"I'm not paying for this," Reyes said as he gulped down the tempting serving.

"I already have." McCree noisily sucked on his teeth. "Don't worry 'bout it."

"Plundered another village, chico? One moment you're risking your head for a bag of silver and now you're basically giving away gold."

"Nah." Jesse shook his head and quaffed his own serving. "It was all Hanzo."

"You mean pretty boy?"

"Don't tell me you have a thing for him too."

"I steal treasures, not other people's men."

McCree chuckled, shaking his head lightly as the other pirate stared him down with an almost lenient gaze. It was unfamiliar, but never unwelcome.

"What brings ya here, partner? Magistrate's got his eye on you too?"

"Nah,"Gabriel replied, "I'm going to the merchant's village to meet my newest recruit. Other people said he's a rather skilled thief...not half bad in assassinating too."

"You've never seen him in action?"

"Never even seen the guy. They said his name was Genji...peculiar man--dark, secretive, very much broody for the most part--face pretty much covered save for the eyes."

"Huh, kinda sounds like Hanzo." McCree's brows then arched into concern and disquiet. "Are ya sure this guy's even gonna let you see him?"

"I don't know." There was no vestige of dishonesty on Gabriel's part. "But sometimes--you just have to take risks."

The silence permeated through the air once more, and the whole rustic ambience of the bar weighed in down on them. Gabriel admired how the orange of the candlelight cast a warm effect on the wooden furniture about the place. It gave off the impression of a sunset, a sight he was all too familiar with the years he has spent on sea. When days were hectic and the crew ran amock the deck, he would brush off one of Mother Nature's greatest spectacles and take the view for granted. He'd forget to appreciate the seagulls flying by, or regard the fish leaping out of the water.

Reyes labored to make sure that he didn't lose sight of the small things in life. Despite the gold that surrounded him every victory, the man knew that every pile down to the last coin will be used up, and were he a more acquisitive man, he'd have to find another city to plunder just to manage a smile.

Sounds tough, huh?

The pungent scent of beer and inexpensive liquor wafted into his nostrils, some of which have long dried onto the wooden veneers atop the countertop, and when the accustomed stuffy odor of tobacco smoke made its way into his senses, an idea sparked, and Gabriel gazed back down at the man beside him.

"Wanna play a round of poker?"

Jesse took note of the glint of hope in his old colleague's eyes and nodded with a smile.

***

The furthermost table in the quaint little establishment seated McCree and Reyes, each accompanied by a member of their own crew, namely Duncan and a fellow that went by Márcelo. They had cards in their fingers, which were soon strewn about atop the table as the game progressed, accompanied by hoots of displeasure or exclamations of triumph.

"Don't take it easy on me, old man."

"I don' think 'e was tryin' to, cap'n."

Another round of boisterous hollers from the two men of the same ship, and another low groan from an agitated Gabriel.

"Typical," the older pirate muttered, his usually grumpy persona cracked even further by chagrin and vexation. "I think you boys cheated."

"I think you're just unlucky, partner."

"Can't be as unlucky as that time one of our ships was attacked by merfolk," Gabriel grunted with a roll of his eyes before his focus fell once more on the group of cards that fanned before him.

"Sí, ellos son muy malos." Márcelo gritted his teeth as he slammed a fist onto the table, shaking the furniture and all the stuff lying atop it. From where McCree sat, he noticed the glimmer of a spark shining from the angered man's mouth. The lighting barely made the bar a difference from the dusky environs outside, but even then, Jesse was able to discern that it the questioning object was none other than a golden tooth--and it looked pretty real too.

"How'd you get out of that pickle?" Jesse's interest was piqued at the mention of merfolk, and he lifted a brow to press them on.

"Well," Reyes began, dark orbs darting up in reminiscence, "we just crossed yards of blue sea when we spotted an island. It looked pretty small and so I assumed there was nothing of interest there. No people in sight, so no gold to steal from, right?"

McCree returned his gaze with a smile, beckoning for the older pirate to continue. But the warmth of Gabriel's thoughtful countenance suddenly extinguished, and a shadow darkened his face, hiding the unmistakable grief his voice betrayed.

"I had five ships tailing behind me, and I noticed that one lagged behind. So I personally went over there using one of the smaller ships behind me and left the wheel to one of ny first mates.

"When I swung over there, I knew why they had slowed down: Sirens started jumping from over the sides of the ship and pulling my men down to drown. Others charmed the whole lot with those hypnotic eyes of theirs, and since most of my crew were desperate for any human intimacy, well, they jumped in-"

"Mí hermano tonto--he jumped in also!" Márcelo reddened as the retelling brought him back to that day. Everything was so vivid: the smell of the sea breeze, the feel of the blistering sun above, even the sight of his younger brother climbing over the railings and falling into eternal hell. Oh he was so close, the man could just feel his sibling's tattered clothing right under his fingertips!

"They intended on getting every single one of my men, and it was only a matter of time before they got to my ship. So we busted out the artillery and shot and cannoned at them with all our might. Thankfully they scrammed later on, but even then it took a lot of our resources, and a lot of my men."

"That sounds--" McCree cleared his throat to stomach in the hard ball of perturbation that settled there, "intense. Yup, couldn't get anymore intense than that. Those sirens sounded like sickos."

"Oh the whole lot of them are," Gabriel spat condescendingly, eyes narrowing with sheer emotion. "And when I get my hands in on one of them, I'll show it hell for what they did to my crew. I mean, wouldn't you, chico?"

"Totally," McCree blurted out thoughtlessly, crossing his arms. "Every pirate's pest, am I right? Their good for nothin' asses are worth gold, though."

"They are worth gold, but I also want to get something greater."

"Greater then gold?" McCree chuckled incredulously. Gabriel did not sound like a pirate at the moment. "What could be greater than gold?"

Reyes glanced back at him, eyes steely as daggers. "Satisfaction." And he brought a scarred fist for emphasis.

Duncan nonchalantly scratched at his beard with tired fingertips until his half-lidded gaze fell unto a shimmering speck that stood a good distance behind Gabriel's shoulder, the bar's back door to be exact.

"Oi, Cap'n," the tipsy pirate hiccuped as he pointed limply towards the exit, "Hanzo be here."

McCree was just on the verge of lighting up his tobacco when Duncan gave the unexpected announcement. Looking behind him through a thin curtain of short brown strands, Jesse hurriedly got up off his seat and jogged towards the merman, thinking he'd need something.

"Ey, darlin'," he greeted, "where have ya run off to? Didn't see you in a while."

McCree's eyes then snapped up to Thomas. "Great job guardin' this guy, city boy."

But the compliment failed to change the look of worry and concern that settled over his fair features, and he brought a finger between his canines before taking a few steps to the side to cover himself in the blanket of shadows cast upon by the roofs of buildings.

What's all that about? McCree thought, his own features contorted into confusion.

He then looked down to find some sort of answer, but all that met him was the raw, unbridled abhorrence on Hanzo's face; it forced his soft lush lips into curling, baring white teeth that ground against one another so harshly it looked as though it would crack any second. The siren's sharp high cheeks reddened with vehemence, and he tore his sight away from the pirate before him.

Jesse shot an arm forward to capture the merman's fleeing form. "Darlin', what's wrong-"

"Save it!" Hanzo hissed, setting loose all of the hostility he had been bottling up for some time. "Don't you dare follow me or I'll show you just how much of a pest I can be."

He snapped his arm away from McCree's touch and walked briskly back to where the ship was docked.

As for the captain, he was left desolate, stranded under the moonlight from above.

Silenced by shock, he hadn't even felt Thomas approaching him from where he hid, and the lad rubbed his chilled arms as he spoke, "He heard everything, captain. He was pretty upset--looked like he would explode awhile ago."

Jesse turned, and his face showed self-loathing; his wide eyes pushed down by thick brown brows.

"I told him to calm down captain, but he threatened to drown me so I shut up."

The gentle night breeze blew from behind, and the light brown locks of Jesse's hair flew and tickled the sun kissed skin of his cheeks. All that rang in his ears were the ringing of his own guilt, and Hanzo's harsh retort playing over and over again.

McCree never meant for this to happen...oh, why did he have to be so stupid just when Hanzo was warming up to him.

"Han..." he muttered the merman's name like a secret spell, wishing he'd return to talk things through.

But Hanzo never came back.


	9. A Bunch of Apologies

Hanzo curled in his confinement, his faded attire thrown carelessly onto the floor as a dejected pile of ruffled cloth. He hugged himself, running his palms up and down his muscled arms.  
To his misfortune, the pain of awhile ago failed to stay under his mask of indifference, and the merman dug his nails at the skin under them, the overwhelming pain in his chest making everything else numb, making the blood rush to his head it almost burst.

Amidst the faint sound of his heart breaking into pieces, he heard the clatter of tiny, hard objects rattling across the old molding floor. Gazing down with a hazy field of sight, he could discern white specks scattered about here and there. Realizing what they were only fueled his smothering anguish, and he couldn't believe some filthy pirate had reduced him into something so wretched, so pathetic in a matter of a few words.

"Every pirate's pest, am I right? Their good for nothin' asses are worth gold, though."

Is that how the captain really saw him as? Is this the respect McCree held for him?

Right when they were getting along, right after he fucking saved his goddamn life, and he pulled shit like that behind Hanzo's back.

Well, the merman's mistake for thinking highly of a man, and a pirate nonetheless.

So apparently that was what the siren meant to McCree: a sea menace who is good for nothing but getting gold, and once they were of no use, well...

Hanzo's thick throat waved as he swallowed the ball of dread that came with the thought of suffering the same fate as some of his kin, and his broad fingers brushed at his collarbone, right at the base of his neck, checking just to make sure he was still breathing, and that his head was still intact his person.

Could Jesse really do that?

Kill him? Dispose of him after he's done his end of the bargain?

Right at the moment, there were red flags everywhere that foretold him that it was certainly the case, and the thought of escape quickly crawled back into his agitated mind.

"Han?" Another voice crept into all the commotion running amock his head. "Hanzo, please, are ya in here?"

The wooden floors creaked louder under the weight of the captain's approaching form,and as fast as he could, Hanzo shot up to grab at the curtains and fling it haphazardly to the side to cover himself from any prying eyes.

He knew Jesse could just easily pull it back as it was before...

But eh, what the heck. Hanzo's mind was putty and he couldn't care less about anything anymore.

And just as expected, the hanging fabrics were drawn back without so much mindful thought or permission.

"Han!" Jesse exclaimed as his chest gave out to a sigh of relief. "I thought you'd run off."

"I wanted to," Hanzo fired back, his voice raspy and low. "But your stupid men saw me coming and guarded the shore line."

"Han-"

"Don't!" the merman interrupted fiercely, his attempt at civility crumbling like a house on soft foundation.

When Jesse saw the familiar tawny orbs turning into slits, his boot took a cautious step back, and he soughed as the wound in his heart became all the more unbearable.

"Look, whatever I said to Reyes, I don't really think that of you," he tried explaining, pulling his cowboy hat off of his head--a gesture that rubbed off on him when times were looking bleak. "I swear Han, I just said those so he wouldn't suspect a thing. He's got his eye on you for some time, and I don't want to put you into any danger. I'm...I'm real sorry."

"I need time to think," Hanzo replied curtly, putting his face in both palms to contemplate in as well as to avoid seeing the captain's expectant gaze. "I'm not ready to accept your apology."

"I...I know." Jesse scratched at the back of his neck. "It was a dick move to do--talking shit behind your back. I understand if you'll never forgive me at all...but if you need me, I'll be outside. I'm real sorry again."

***

Having nowhere else to head to, McCree trudged the cumbersome path leading back towards the same bar with the prospect of getting their strongest whiskey to drown out the pain. Upon reaching the tiny building, a scream of his name forced Jesse's head up towards the second level of the chipped establishment. There, a small little balcony was built, and in it was no other than Reyes.

"Chico, come up here. I want to talk to you." There was a slight slur in his voice, a warning sign for his sobriety, but if Jesse hadn't listened closely, he would have dismissed it off like an irrelevant speck of dust and move on.

There was definitely something going on with Gabriel. Had he had too much of a drink?

McCree thought he should have that many too...especially in this situation when he and Hanzo aren't too keen on each other.

But nonetheless he made his way up, risking his life and well being by climbing a short but worn flight of rickety steps. Arriving at the second floor, the number of people considerably lessened, and the ambience dimmed. The pale moonlight bounced off the bottles of beer scattered here and there, and some of the chairs laid toppled down, which nobody bothered to pick up in a while.

At the center of the room, a long shadow stretched unto Jesse's person, and looking up, he could make out the gleam of a pair of familiar brown irises.

"Gabe, that you, partner?" McCree squinted his eyes to better his vision.

"Come here, chico," the other pirate said, and upon closing the distance between them, Jesse was able to discern the sight of a tempting serving of red liquor, sitting comfortably right in between Reyes' gloved fingertips.

"What's all this about, Gabe?" In all honesty, the young captain was in no mood to talk at all after the little exchange with Hanzo. He was just trying his best to be polite to his former colleague despite the sourness in his mouth.

"Look, McCree, I...I need to tell you something," Reyes began as he put the glass aside on the table nearby, right next to the whole bottle from which he got the beverage from. It was near empty, and Jesse worried that he'd had too much of a drink.

"Ya sure you're okay, partner?"

"I need you to listen to me right now, Jesse." Gabriel dismissed his companion's worry with a raised palm. "Ever since you left that night...I've been restless. I kept beating myself up for it because I thought you hated my guts to the point that you couldn't take it anymore. On top of that, you took one of my finest ships with you. So now I have to know, I have to hear it from you or I'm gonna go mad...why'd you left in the first place?"

McCree blinked his eyes in disbelief. After all this time, he always envisioned their next meeting to be full of spite and assertions and maybe a little bit of bloodshed, two things forged by bitter treachery on Reyes' part. If McCree were being honest with himself, he had been pleasantly surprised that Gabriel hadn't fished out a gun and pulled the trigger at the very sight of him down at the bar this morning.

It perplexed the young pirate to comprehend that his former captain was not cross with him stealing The Huckleberry for the most part...but for the very fact that he left without notice.

"Well," Jesse began, gaze straying to the moon for solace. "to be honest I felt like I wasn't cut out to be staying in your crew. It was one of those nights when I couldn't sleep, partly because insomnia I don't know, and partly because my body hurt like hell after you've just kicked me all over. I forgot why ya even did that but I remembered bein' hurt, in and out, because I knew deep down that I ain't enough for ya."

He paused his recounting to look at Gabriel, who refused to meet his gaze and instead burned holes at the bottom of his glass.

But nevertheless, Jesse continued, "So I rounded up a few other men who were also sick of your shit and sailed away. I guess that was when the great Jesse McCree came to be." He tried lightening the mood by giving a chuckle and a grin, but Gabriel's features remained as stiff as a brick.

"So...it was my fault?" Reyes voiced out, slightly irritated that McCree decided to beat around the bush like that.

"More or less."

"Well, I knew I was being a dick to you, believe it or not. I just didn't realize how a big one I was until it was too late." Gabriel huffed a heavy breath out and ran a clammy palm over the expanse of his dark face. "I'm...I'm sorry for hurting you back then Jesse. I'm just--I didn't know how to act around you, so I resorted to dealing with things I'm unfamiliar with; using hostility against them."

"What are you talking about?" Jesse snapped. "That other recruit you had, what's his name, he was newer than me and yet you didn't treat him like shit."

"You don't get it, Jesse!" Reyes roared, straightening his spine so he stood his full height. "I didn't have feelings for him, you idiot--I had feelings for you!"

As soon as the five words reached Jesse's ears, the man nearly lost his loose footing, and he saw the whole world spin in a dizzying vertigo as all his weight sagged on his heels.

I had feelings for you!

How could he have possibly known? Gabriel himself said it: He had been an asshat to McCree!

However, just as the rugged captain could piece it all in his burdened mind, Reyes stepped in, closed the distance between their bodies, and cupped Jesse's stubby jaw.

"Come back with me, chico," he whispered so tenderly, then leaned in to capture McCree's parted lips into a consuming kiss, both fiery and pueriley sentimental at the same time.

He moved his lips to covet Jesse, darted his tongue into the other's wet cavern. He was pleading like a lovesick fool, but he could hardly care less.

All he needed was McCree back into his life, back to his ship, and possibly his bed. He needed this cocky young man more than he needed his sanity, and so he shot his hands up to knead at the pirate's muscular sides to ensure that he'd stay.

God, he felt good under his touch.

"R-Reyes," Jesse let out a quiet moan, his low voice ragged from the other's tiltillating touches.

"Please, Jesse, come back to me. I'll take your whole crew just...I'll treat you better this time. I promise."

"Gabriel..."

McCree really couldn't say anything after that, every part of his body was numb and his head still twirled in the daze of shock.  
But through all that, even as Gabriel started kissing him again, he saw Hanzo in his mind's eye: smiling and laughing with him as his eyes sparkled like little ambers drops.

Jesse imagined running his fingers against the siren's black tresses, he imagined seeing his blush as he'd lay down some pick-up lines that would be so cheesy they can taste it in the air. All the little things imaginable, Jesse wanted nothing more than to do them with Hanzo.

Having that said, McCree pulled away from his admirer's hold and sighed as the brim of his hat hid the gleam of apology in his downcast eyes.

"I'm real sorry Gabe, but... I just don't feel the same way," he sighed. "I...it would be pretty unfair for you if I stay...when I love someone else."

"It's that Hanzo, isn't it?"

McCree bit his lip at the gruffness of the other's words. "Yes."

Sighing after a moment's pause, Gabriel grabbed for his unfinished serving of whiskey, downed it all in one big gulp, and took the whole bottle--or what's left of it---into the crook of his elbow.

"That ship you took," he began, "consider it as a gift from me, ingrate."

He didn't wait for Jesse to reply.

He stood up, walked away, and left the captain there on the old balcony to wonder what the actual hell just happened.


	10. Pearls

Finding out on a sour note that the quaint little saloon wouldn't be his place of solace, McCree saw no other choice but to head back to his beloved Huckleberry and have a shot at talking with the merman once more. Sure the little city still offered him tons of places to go to and hide in from the responsibility he felt swimming in his chest, but the night was pitch black, and the village was becoming a sea of ebony too as the people and establishments extinguished their lamps and candles one by one.

Plus, he was getting pretty tired: There was no denying it, heartache or no heartache.

Maybe things will magically clear up in the morning, the man thought as he lightly scratched at the growing brown beard on his chin. Yeah, sleep will do a number on this mess.

On the way to his room, the captain ignored the watchful stares of his men and brushed off their concerns or greetings with a lazy wave of a hand. At last he stood in front of his quarters' door, then for a split second, he drew his hand back from the rusted handle of the entrance just when he shot an arm out to grab it.

He suddenly remembered the anger in Hanzo's amber orbs, very guilt--inducing, but for Jesse to be able to see and feel the raw pain hidden underneath, well, that was another story entirely, something much harder to swallow than guilt.

His muscular arm wrapped itself around the space below his chest, and thoughts of spending the night on the cold ship deck with only his black cape for protection sounded so appealing he was a thread away from giving in. But that was exactly the point: From the time that he was a young man he understood what it really meant to be brave. Running off and letting things simmer down on their own was exactly the kind of thinking that kept him from greatness before, and when he turned a different, more assertive course, he became captain--and a famous one at that.

He ran a cold palm against the warm skin of his nape, drew a breath out through his rounded lips, and finally disregarded his uneasiness as he bolted right through the doorway and stepped inside.

"Han," he called out, "I really need to talk to...you."

The sight that met McCree on the other side of the door rendered him speechless as much as it immobilized him. He never expected his siren to be in such a peculiar position: arms crossed and just inches away from dangling over the golden edges of his casing. He leaned his entire weight there, his head resting on the crook of one arm, his sleeping features nestled in a frizzy mesh of ebony hair.

Boy, was he out cold.

However, that wasn't the weirdest display yet. For there, scattered like spilt seeds on the floor were a myriad of shiny round pearls that gleamed like stars in the orange glow of the candlelight. Some even hindered his strides, poking into the middle of his shoes' soles after a step or two. Following a trail of density, McCree found that the place where they clustered the most was right under Hanzo's folded arms.

"Han?" he called out once more, curiosity taking over his anxiety. "Han."

The merman's eyelids pressed down harder upon his orbs before they fluttered open like a pair of wings. Hanzo then lifted his head up from his reprieve and stared the captain down with a half-lidded gaze that sent fire running throughout Jesse's warm blood.

"Jesse," he murmured. Oddly enough, he didn't even sound angry!

"Han, what're all these pearls doing here?" the pirate asked, deciding to sit on his ankles so as the siren wouldn't strain his neck from looking up so much. "How'd they even get here?"

Instead of answering, Hanzo unfolded his muscular arms apart below and raised a hand to feel the space around his eyes. It was a little wet, and seeing the moisture on his fingertips made the captain realize that throughout the siren's slumber, he may have been shedding tears.

Shit I made him cry...

"Your tears..." McCree began with a low whisper, "they don't happened to be your tears now, do they?"

Hanzo was silent, unmoving, his pride keeping him still. But at last he answered back, "They are, and I'm certain you've heard of our people shedding pearls for tears before. Well...the myth is true, pirate. We do cry out pearls; as soon as the tear drops away from our faces, they harden, and ergo pearls."

McCree skated his gaze over the floor again. Dang, that's a lot of pearls.

"Sell them if you want," Hanzo huffed, sinking lower down into the water, "I know how much your kind loves oyster feces."

The mere utterance of the statement itself would have elicited a chuckle or a laugh from the usually playful captain, but with the heavy ambience choking his high spirits down, all he could do was arch his brows up as he heard the hint of disdain lingering in Hanzo's gruff voice.

"Hanzo," he whispered, kneeling on one knee to level his eyes with the merman's, "I'm real sorry. I should have been more careful...I never meant to hurt you like that, darlin'. I'd never do anythin' to make you cry."

"Well, let's back up a little, shall we?" Hanzo snapped. "You injured me with a harpoon, tied me onto a contraption like an animal whenever you wanted me to go get something under the sea, keep your men close to me so I wouldn't run away, talked about me behind my back, and all you see me as even after all this time we've spent together is some money making machine incapable of emotion and undeserving of any sort of affection. So yes, I did feel cherished Jesse, I did feel like you cared for me."

"Han, you know that I care about you."

"So now tell me yourself that you really do care for me. Tell me you'll keep me by your side even when I can't dive to the deepest trenches to get your blasted gold, that you won't sell me when I'm no longer of use to you--look me in the eye and tell me all these things, because if you can't, then you might as well just kill me right now because I'm sick of it! I'm tired of being alone and used and lied to, Jesse. I thought I found a companion in you, different from all the others, and I thought that I had one more chance at being happy...I thought you were the one destined to help me change this hellish course I've been living my whole life, because that's what I felt whenever you'd pass by, whenever you'd lock your eyes with mine. I feel alive and I thought you felt it with me too."

The merman shook his head in dismay and bitterly crossed his arms over his chest. "But I was wrong. I trusted a human of all creatures and now I'm in pain...my mistake."

"No, Hanzo--you had every right to trust me," Jesse whispered, "I was the one who ruined it for you--for us. Han, I'm real sorry." He let his eyes skid over the expanse of his cluttered floor. "I wish there were words to tell you how much I regret what I did; please, tell me how to make it all better. I want to make ya happy, Han."

Jesse was tired, there was no doubt about that, but how would he be able to sleep this night? How could he even shut his eyes with the knowledge of this mess slapping him in the face. The need for sleep had slipped away long ago, all the captain needed was the merman's forgiveness, and upon hearing about Hanzo's deepest, most sincere sentiments, the very desire grew bigger to the point that the captain won't be okay with anything ever again if Hanzo refuses to accept his amends.

"I won't sell the pearls," McCree went on to say, "I've stopped carin' about whether you could pay me back or not. I don't know whether I just really wanted ya to stay or if I was so used to the routine--I don't know--but all I knew was that I couldn't stand the thought of never seein' ya again. I did learn to care about you Han, I know I don't show much but every time I call ya sweetheart or honeybean or darlin', I wanted ya to know that my affections for you were real. As real as the earth is flat, darlin'."

"You only care about me because I give you gold," the siren seethed, although the pirate's little spiel did make his heart thrum a lot faster, as well as it made all the blood rush to his face. But no, he refused to believe it. It was all too good to be true, and the pang in his chest was still gaping and aching for him to be thinking clearly.

His crestfallen gaze was trained down on his crossed arms and iridescent blue tail that he failed to notice McCree's calloused hand rising up to grasp his and pull it out from the crook of his arm. 

"No Han, I don't want the gold anymore, and no, I won't sell you, I won't let anyone hurt you and I won't let anyone use you again," Jesse sighed. "I will stay by your side and I do care about you. Please, forgive me..."

But to his dismay, Hanzo didn't budge an inch.

"Fine. If this is what it takes for you to know that I meant every single damn thing I said to you then I'll do it...I'm lettin' ya go."

Hanzo's eyes blinked with interest, and gist scowl disappeared.

"I thought you said you couldn't bear to see me leave."

"I've been selfish for too long," McCree answered back with a rueful smile. "But what I can't bear the most is seein' ya so unhappy bein' with me..."

"I think it's best that we do part, pirate." Hanzo nodded, his tone softening once more. Jesse took it as a sign of the forgiveness he's been coveting for all night, and while an enormous wave of relief flooded in on him, a mirroring wave of grief and despair struck him down and rendered him speechless.

And should he sleep, his dreams shall be plagued with nightmares and the inevitable truth that in his next waking moments, Hanzo's face wouldn't be the first thing he'll see in the morning. He'll miss his scowl, his snarl, his laughter, his smile--and it would be maddening as the days pass by.


	11. Cockblock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's move past the title shall we? :*

Hanzo wrapped his arms as he deemed it necessary around Jesse's thick neck as the pirate in turn supported his weight with one hand on the small of his back and the other under the bend of his blue tail.

For what could possibly be the last time, Jesse's eyes skated over the scaly periphery of his beloved's blue tail, watched how the pale moonbeams shone hypnotically upon its iridescent surface. Then, his gaze went up and he realized how he never noticed the fairness of Hanzo's skin before, how pure ivory it appeared under the moonlight. Immediately and thoughtlessly, McCree moved his hand up from the small of Hanzo's back just so he could caress it, the dreadful prospect of them parting ways making him sick to the stomach.

He hated how he never discerned these things. Hanzo was right, McCree did take him for granted.

With each step heading further towards the ship's borders, Jesse felt the pull of hesitance growing stronger, trying to bring him back to the cabin and put Hanzo back in his confinement. And to his most pleasant surprise, he found the same emotion shining in Hanzo's eyes too.

Catching wind of McCree's stare, the merman snapped his face to the sea to make it clear to the pirate that whatever uncertainty he had was to be disregarded, that his decision was set on stone.

The stillness around them thickened; no words were exchanged between the two estranged hearts and truth be told, Hanzo found the usually effervescent Jesse's silence to be quite unsettling, if not unnerving. The siren wondered how he'll be able to fare with the atmosphere weighing down upon him as he dangled helplessly between his captor's arms, but lucky for him, they've reached the border, and in an instant, Jesse set the merman down to sit on the red wooden baluster.

"Well, here ya go, Han--the ocean. I'm not really good with y'know, good byes, so ya might as well skiddadle before I change my mind, sweetheart; I might never let ya go if ya stay any longer." Jesse's words were laced with a childish whim followed by an all too familiar low chuckle that gave off an air of acceptance, happiness even. The sound tugged at Hanzo's heart, and it showed on the sharp features of his face. "I'm...I'm gonna go back to my room. Ya take care of yourself now, won't be there to look out for ya. Okay, bye."

Gosh his farewell game was weak.

Hanzo parted his lips to say something in return, but McCree had already turned his back on him and walked away.

Three feet away from the cabin door, McCree stopped in his tracks and let his shoulders sag forward as the burden of a nonchalant facade became almost too unbearable.

He doubt that going back in the cluttered quarters and seeing the glass container of whom he had just lost for long periods of time would be good for the aching pang bleeding inside his chest. So with a groan, he fished out an old roll of tobacco from his shirt pocket along with an old, rusty silver lighter, and the determination to move on coursed through his thick veins.

Three clicks in the air, and one end of the tobacco was glowing from the lighter's fire, the other encased between his dry lips. Smoke flew out in wispy threads of grey, and more came out of McCree's parted mouth. He was going to need more than one roll if he wanted to survive the night, so he sucked as much of the essence as he can, an idle suggestion of liquor not too far behind in the corners of his mind.

Jesse scanned the area for any sign, anything at all that would make him remember where the hell he placed the beer compartments. He wasn't thinking straight, not that he really could. Losing Hanzo was a first in his life and it was proving itself to be a pain in the ass the longer he had to deal with it.

And he dealt with it the only way he thought he should: with more tobacco and more liquor.

"Jesse...I want to stay."

Now he was just hearing things. This is it--Jesse McCree has left the building!

"Jesse, are you listening?"

The pirate was trying not to.

"Jesse."

Nope. Not gonna succumb to insanity just yet.

"I'm going to jump--"

"No!" McCree yelled at last, throwing his arms out as far as he could in front of him, as though it would just magically pull the merman back towards him and out of the reaches of the sea. "Please...I'm sorry for what I did. But I want you to know that I do care for ya, and I want ya to stay. Please, give me one more chance. Don't go, darlin'."

"In all honesty...I don't want to," the siren answered, biting his lip as he laid one leg over the other, fully aware of his current nudity. "I don't know why I chose to go back here, why I chose to refuse the call of the sea. Then I realize that I have no one to go back to...I have no one waiting for me out there."

Jesse's brows arched in sympathy. "Ya don't got a family?"

"Long story." Hanzo made it clear that he wished no discussion on the subject. "But the thing is...I knew I'd miss you once I leave this ship, that I'd crave for your touch night and day. There was no point in lying to myself, and my anger had long subsided. I forgave you."

Unable to contain himself, the captain of The Huckleberry ran up to the smiling merman and nearly tackled him overboard with a robust hug. Hanzo chuckled at the likeness of the embrace to that of a young child's joy, and he opened his mouth to comment on it, but Jesse beat him to it. The pirate had captured his lips in a searing kiss that betrayed all the emotions he tried so hard to contain, tried to bury down like a treasure chest.

However there was nothing he wanted more than to show them, to make this special man see that there was more to him than a desire for gold and glory.

"Oh boy I've missed ya so much," Jesse sighed with a laugh, kissing him again. When he pulled away, he lifted a thick brown brow and flashed a cocky smug grin.

"Shall we take this to our room, darlin'?"

***

Resting his hands down upon Hanzo's naked shoulders, McCree brought it upon himself to be as gentle as he possibly could while he lowered the merman unto his makeshift bed, all the while his eyes shamelessly took in the contours of the other's stocky build.

Boy was he ravishing.

Subconsciously, McCree licked his lips and placed both legs against each side of Hanzo's waist, and then he lowered his body even further, caging Hanzo in between two tanned muscular arms.

"Jesse..." Hanzo groaned, half-lidded and very much in heat from the harmless contact of the pirate's brown pants on his private flesh. The sensation was so new, so unfamiliar, and yet it was so gratifying and sensational. He couldn't help the bucking of his hips, his need for more of that wonderful friction.

McCree chuckled at the raw desperation in Hanzo's voice and pressed his chapped lips down on the sensitive crook of his neck. The merman gasped with shock, and he quickly found the sensation to be of his liking.

Without thinking, Hanzo wrapped his muscled legs around the width of Jesse's waist, and he rocked into it, spurring both him and the pirate. It was going to be smooth sailing from there, but a knock from the door shattered the intimacy of them both, and McCree snapped his head over his shoulder to glare at the entry with such burning anger.

Who the fucking hell-?!

Not a second later, a tuft of familiar red hair came into view, and McCree's glare deepened to daggers.

"Cap'n, I came to ask if we all could--oh..."

A deep red blush crossed over Thomas' pale cheek, and he traced his footsteps to quickly head out of the cabin. The door clicked shut behind them.

Well, that ruined the mood.

"I'll make 'im sweep the poop deck tomorrow, and then the bathrooms," McCree huffed under his breath, "then I'll make him do it all over again."

Hanzo laughed, his eyes squinting from his wide smile. "He means well. He didn't know we were...we were doing something."

Jesse grabbed at Hanzo's hand and caressed the fair palm with his gentle lips. "Still, I'm makin' him do it."

"You're mean."

"You're hot."

Hanzo laughed again, and the sound of his joy reverberated through the wooden structure of the room. It was music to Jesse's ears, and he stroked his beloved's features with the feathery back of his fingers.

"I love you, pirate."

"Hmm...love ya too, sweetheart."


	12. The Treasure Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Hanzo explains why he even threw McCree's treasure chest in the first place. Ok, let's go, loves!
> 
> M for mature and H for heavy. XD
> 
> Don't forget to enjoy and leave a kudo too! :*

Limbs entangled limbs as Hanzo's sleeping form molded like clay to fill in the spaces between him and the pirate's much larger, toned build. Their bodies were under the warmth of a blanket, but it served more for decency than anything else--supposedly if Thomas were to go in unannounced the second time, but they highly doubt that.

Jesse's sun-kissed skin added a sort of rustic contrast to the alabaster of Hanzo's periphery, while the untamed locks of his sepia hair unfurled out into a wild dishevelment that contrasted the silky ebony tresses that fell like streams from the siren's scalp.

Everything about the two of them was fire and ice, water and oil, heaven and earth; you name it. Who knew they would even make it past the desire to kill each other without receiving a single thread of a scratch on their skins? Sure Hanzo was hit with a harpoon--a big one at that--but the blow was intended to protect Thomas and not so much to bring harm upon the merman or his pretty blue tail.

When he passed out due to blood loss on the white sandy shoreline, the first thing on McCree's mind wasn't to aim at the head and pull the steely trigger. His body had reacted faster on instinct, but upon realization that there was no real harm within sight, the weapon was tucked back into the leather holster and the captain crouched on one knee to gain a better angle from which to observe his vulnerable captive better.

He was a beautiful siren.

Jesse would have stayed for hours, doing nothing but setting his eyes on all that there was to see, but the purpling of Hanzo's lips and the graying of his skin prompted him to take the medical approach. And yet when those amber orbs shone through fluttering eyelids how many days later, Jesse was simply smitten. He forgot what hostility was as he watched the merman slip in and out of consciousness. Hanzo turned an on switch inside his system and it was going to take a lot--almost impossible--to turn it back off, even as the siren acted so stubbornly in the first few months of his stay. Of course it was nothing short of unbearable, but it was nothing the great Captain McCree couldn't handle.

"Good morning, pirate." Hanzo's voice flowed out in hushed whispers as the earliness of the morning still coursed through his exhausted, adjusting system.

"Hey there, sweetpea," Jesse chuckled lowly, and Hanzo felt the deep sound rumbling from the other against the bone of his shoulder blade where McCree's chest was pressed against. "How about some breakfast, mhm?"

Hanzo's lips slipped up into a smile as one of his thick black brows arched up. "You mean my regular bucket of raw fish?"

"Nah." McCree laughed along, sensing his hint of playful sarcasm. "From now on, you'll be eatin' whatever I eat. Or you go back to raw fish, either way I'm fine with it."

"You mean...ass?"

The captain's eyes circled out the moment the unusual string of words flew past Hanzo's lips. Had he heard that right? "W-What? S'cuse me?"

"You know," the merman began, slightly taken aback by the quick shift of emotions on his beloved's countenance. "I've been hearing some of your crew members say a lot of things pertaining to..." he paused, "ass. Is that some sort of dish? Some sort of...delicacy? An object? I doubt it's the same thing as a person's behind. I mean, I know how much you humans love to make new meanings out of old words--idioms, is it? I mean...how can one eat a person's behind? That's brutal...and quite unprecedented."

McCree laughed, louder than what he intended. "It can be a delicacy if you want, darlin'."

"Huh..." Hanzo said, still not quite getting the underlying message in the little bounce of McCree's brow, "well, I'd like to try some...I guess someday?"

"Sooner than you know it, sweetheart." Jesse winked, and his arms were back down to where they belonged, right underneath the slight bend of Hanzo's back where it was easier to pull the merman's weight closer to his tanned chest.

Hanzo reveled in this luxury of sentiment, one he had never felt in the past years before him filled with drowning sailors, luring them to their deaths, and what-nots. What used to be piercing screams of terror and threats and curses bloomed into soft honey-laced words of blandishment that sparked a continuous set of frizzles from the base of his nape down his arms and up til his broad fingertips. And to add to the matter, Jesse was merciless with his cajoling, and Hanzo could only reply with a grin or let out a light chuckle that mirrored the fondness that he had acquired for this peculiar pirate.

But it wasn't the smooth talk or the handsome visage that made Hanzo's stomach flip like a pancake upon sight of him; they were merely bridges, spans that called forth and led the merman to discover a side of Jesse not many people have the treat of basking in, or at least, believed to have been inside him in the first place.

Sure he asked himself more than several times over the course of the months why, and his own troubled head would keep him awake in the darkest hours of the ebony night to try even harder in raking his head for answers to the puzzling question. It didn't matter if his bloodshot eyes shone even redder, or that his eyebags had eyebags underneath--he had to know. But in the end, it didn't even matter to Hanzo, and he let go of the nagging desire to analyze. He realized that he loved Jesse because he just did, that the complex feelings of the heart can not be so easily deciphered as the thoughts of the mind, and that if he were to live the rest of his life in hiding from the scrutinizing gazes of most of Jesse's kind, then he'd gladly go through the inconvenience.

If it means staying by the captain's side for as long as they both drew breath.

He was most determined in going through with this risky decision, determined to make it work despite the boundaries of their origins. All his life, Hanzo had been told of what to do and what should be...look where that got him.

He couldn't afford to screw this up this time.

"Han? Darlin'? Why're ya cryin'?" Jesse gripped both of the siren's shoulders with a gentle but firm hold, fingertips tingling with concern. When the pearls kept falling onto his tanned chest like little beads of starlight, he shook Hanzo, and the merman finally met his eyes.

"Was it somethin' I said, Han?"

"I..." Hanzo didn't quite know how to begin what he wanted to say, or rather he didn't know what he wanted to say. Unmoving, he uttered, "I...I don't...forget it."

"Han, please. Tell me what's eatin' ya up."

The siren saw the naked expression of disquiet on the pirate's features as clear as day. The pang in his chest widened, and he sighed, trying to school his own expression of unrest in the hopes of ceasing McCree's. But even when he did triumph over himself, Jesse's reluctance to believe that everything was fine was becoming a hindrance, and the only way it seemed to get rid of it was to come clean and spill out the whole truth behind his sudden tear-shedding.

"McCree...the treasure chest you found..."

"What about it, darlin'?" McCree coaxed carefully, brushing the thin curtain of hair away from Hanzo's face so that he'd have nowhere to hide, nowhere to keep his demons to. He wanted--no, needed--the siren to trust him if they were going to make this work.

And it seemed as though Hanzo read his mind.

"The treasure chest," Hanzo repeated shakily, "it belonged to my brother Genji; that's why I went through all that trouble just to throw it back into the ocean. It was the only piece I had left of him, my only remembrance."

"I-I'm real sorry, darlin', I had no idea-" McCree paused, trying to figure everything out amidst the rush of new knowledge trying to be processed by his head. "What...what happened to 'im? Your brother? Did...did a human...kill him?"

"No." Hanzo shook his head as his teeth dug down on the supple flesh of his bottom lip. "Oh McCree, I...I did. I killed him." As soon as the words left, his eyes snapped shut and the tears fell once more.

"Jesse, I'm a monster."

"Darlin'-"

"No," Hanzo snapped, pulling away from Jesse's incoming touch. "Leave me be. It was foolish of me, thinking you could fall in love with a murderer such as myself. Now that you know the truth..." the merman sighed, brusquely wiping his tears away with a harsh swipe of the back of his hand. His skin reddened from the sudden friction, and McCree could feel his stomach lurch at the tortured face of his lover.

"Now that you know the truth, you are probably repulsed, knowing you've gone as far as having slept with me. I never meant to keep the truth away from you for so long."

"Hanzo, I've killed many people in my lifetime--I'm a pirate for Pete's sake."

"But you don't know them!" Hanzo yelled, trying to get his point across as he stood on shaky feet. "He was my brother, Jesse! And I killed him for the lies that my family has been whispering in my ears even since I was a little child. I was more than foolish...and I was weak to go against their will. Genji..."

The weight of guilt pushed itself down on the merman's shoulders like a heavy sack of bricks, and his knees, pale and bony, bucked a little before his legs gave away altogether, and his body fell, his hard arms coming down on the hard wooden floor with a thick, loud thud to support his torso.

"G-Genji...!"

A hand quickly found itself to cover Hanzo's sorrow-twisted lips, the other remained below him, supporting his sagging weight. But then there was a pull from above, and then his trembling, guilt-ridden body was warmed by an embrace he knew he didn't deserve. Oh how he wanted to savor the heat of the feeling--the feeling of being cherished, the feeling of being loved.

But who was he to ask for these things, let alone receive them?

"Han, I don't know what to say," McCree said, running a palm down his messy chestnut tresses. "I'm not really an expert in comfortin' someone--let alone someone with some internal turmoil goin' on--"

The pirate bit his tongue down and his words ceased pouring out once he saw the dismal look on Hanzo's sharp countenance pressing against his chest, clearly seeking for solace and comfort. So they sat there, unmoving, for what seemed like hours until Jesse drew in a breath and continued, "But I'm here, Hanzo. I ain't gon' stop lovin' ya no matter what ya did in the past. You didn't know any better; I was young and stupid just like you were, and I've done things I really ain't proud of. But I just...just moved on. You can too, y'know?"

He tucked a hard finger under the merman's bearded chin and tilted it up with such surprising tenderness, taking Hanzo by pleasant surprise, and it was evident on the widening of his glossy amber eyes.

"Gods above I'll swear I ain't leavin' ya, and I ain't lettin' go--we gon' sail through the seas, you and me, and we gon' face every storm together." Jesse pressed his brow down upon the siren's paler ones. "I'll face your storm with you."

The fingers that gripped Jesse's arm further tightened their hold, digging the nails even further into the skin and leaving cresent marks beneath the thin cloth that were bound to bruise later on. Then Hanzo leaned up like he would surface above the water's waves and captured the captain's lips for a soft kiss.

"Thank you..."

McCree couldn't help giving off a low, raspy chuckle. "What for, sweetheart?"

Hanzo smiled, and he cupped the captain's stubby jaw. "You made me feel like I was deserving a second chance."

The siren wasn't fibbing, for he truly did feel a call of redemption he had thought had been denied to him for the longest time. "You are a good man, pirate."

"So are you, darlin'."

And they bound themselves together with another kiss, and Hanzo found himself looking forward to a life with Jesse. Then, a solemn stare into each other's eyes were windows to the only thought running through their minds, the only thought that really mattered.

I love you.

...

"Cap'n!" Thomas yelled as he burst the door open with a surprising strength for his lean build. The silence shattered, and anger sowed within Jesse. "Cap'n, we need to leave now."

Irritation for the young lad went down the drain when McCree noticed the young man's heaving chest, the taut hands on the door's wood, and the intensity in his usually stuttering voice. Something of certain importance must be the object of his vehement worrying.

"What's wrong, Thomas?" The lad's almost deranged expression was starting to eat away at Jesse's insides until his lungs squeezed themselves so hard he could no longer breathe.

"It's the magistrate's ship, cap'n!" Thomas replied without a second's delay. "And they're heading straight for this island!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, the guy whom Jesse stole from in the for chapter is here. :0
> 
> Anyhow guys, thanks for all the support and for the reads. I appreciate everything you've done and I look forward to seeing y'all in the next chapter.
> 
> Toodles! :*


	13. Cornered

The magistrate was headed exactly where they were: That alone was all that Jesse needed to know for him to put a booted foot forward and take immediate action to secure the fate of his entire crew.

"Jesse." Hanzo was composing himself, trying not to fall apart at Jesse's disquiet. "Jesse, what's wrong?"

"Look, we gon' make it out of here alright, sweetheart," the captain replied instead, stomping over to get his stuff, flinging the maps open like a deranged madman. "We've escaped the guy countless times before and we can do it again."

"Who is he?" Hanzo pressed on. "This magistrate?"

"Guy's an asshole," the pirate said gruffly, preparing to head out and check on the others' preparations after he had finished loading the cylinder of his most trusted revolver. "Stay here and don't come out til I get back. If anyone on this island finds out what you really are, we're in for a pickle."

"I'm not going to sabotage the safety of your men," Hanzo snarled, an ache forming in his chest at the almost accusing tone he registered from his lover's rich voice.

"I never meant it like that," Jesse tried explaining, "I'm more worried about your safety. Ya might look like a normal person now, but just a drop of saltwater and a buncha pryin' eyes and you're headed for the exhibit."

There was no reply from the siren's side, and the pirate swerved his head to find a crestfallen shadow cast down upon his beloved's handsome features.

"Listen to me, Han," McCree sighed, running his fingers down the length of his brown locks as he took three steps to close the gap between him and Hanzo. "This guy is bad news, and I don't want ya to be anywhere near his shit."

"But what happened to those things you've just said?" Hanzo burst out in a rage of fury. "The 'we are going to face every storm together' bit? Was all that just sweet talk to win me over? Did you even mean anything you said? Was it all just a farce?"

"We'll talk later, Han." Jesse avoided the other's steely gaze. "Right now, The Huckleberry needs to sail out as soon as possible-"

"I want to be there to protect you when the time comes down to fighting." Hanzo wasn't letting go, and he grabbed at the pirate's arm to pivot him back so they could see each other eye to eye. McCree's jaw was tight, and his lips were pursed. Clearly, there was no hint of amusement on his features, and he breathed deeply, easing the discomfort swirling in his gut at the merman's persistence to fight alongside him. Was he not getting the full picture? How vulnerable he'd be out there?

Hanzo didn't need to worry about a thing; after all, this was basically what he signed up for as a pirate, and what he did best as captain.

"I like ya better alive, Han." McCree shot a hand up to tuck away a stray lock of the siren's black hair that flew about from his little angry fit. "If anythin' bad happened to ya and I know it all coulda been avoided, I'd never forgive myself. I lost everyone I cared for 'cept for my men, and I even lost some of 'em too. Ah just can't afford any more of that. Han, please, stay 'ere until I come back to get you."

As adamant as the siren thought he was, he realized to his misfortune that his lover was just as unyielding--if not bullheaded or mulish--when the bickering reached a new degree of seriousness. This conversation was obviously going to gain the two nothing, with each side just as vehement as the other, and the enemy's ship was heading closer with every ticking second.

If they kept this up, both of their heads could be put on the line.

Hanzo sighed his frustration, and he ripped himself away from Jesse's person. "Fine. Have it as you will. I'll hide while you go get beat with lead." He hissed as he made way to fit himself inside the space under the captain's big, sturdy, and cluttered mahogany desk.

"Um...okay, you go ahead and do that, darlin'," Jesse said, pleasantly surprised to find Hanzo's unexpected shift of sides. Nonetheless, that was one less thing to worry about, and the pirate managed a sigh of his own.

"If anyone tries ta get in here, go ahead and jump into the ocean, Han. There's a secret hatch there that'll lead ya to the cabin beneath mine, and there's a window there that's big enough for you to slip through."

"That wasn't part of the-"

A loud report cut Hanzo off mid sentence, and shook the entirety of The Huckleberry's panelled floors. There was a low ring in both their ears as their minds spun their gears on full speed to figure out what had just happened, or what diabolical weapon had been used by the magistrate to cripple Jesse's defenses.

Not a minute later, Thomas was screaming and the sound alone forced McCree to burst out of that room in poor judgement and into the open deck where his eyes immediately surveyed the state of their surroundings. He didn't get it; he expected splinters and rubble from where the magistrate supposedly blasted them. Everything was in place, where they should be.

But speaking of the devil, his ship was a good distance away, approaching, but still avoidable.

So what the hell was Thomas screaming about?

"Secure the ship!" Someone outside the captain's field of sight was barking orders, pointing here and there to guide the fleet of footsteps tailing in behind him. "No one goes in or out until his excellency arrives."

Gripping his hat in place, McCree sported a red hot look of indignation and ran over to the side of his dear ship where the offending sound was heard the closest. Squinting and with his torso pressed against the red wood of the balustrade, Jesse tried to bend from the waist, far enough to just make out the face of this self-acclaimed man who decided to take the capture of the whole fleet into his own hands until such time that the magistrate could finally land his men and take up the rest of the arrest.

There was no denying that Jesse's glorious head had to have heaps of golden bars stacked there by then, accumulated overtime from each new plunder and every precious rarity stolen under the light of the moon by his quick, deft hands. No doubt the magistrate and every other official in England has it out for him, and most of the common folk he knew could care less about justice and whatnot--they just wanted that sweet mound of heavy, shimmering gold to land straight into their open hands.

And maybe have his neck on a line.

Shaking such terrible things away from his head, Jesse's hand immediately shot down to his worn weather holster, and in no less than a second, shots were fired, and men started falling flat onto their chests and backs, dead. Some of those who chose to remain and brave the wrath of the cornered captain threw ropes overboard to serve as their makeshift pathway up the main deck. They were coming from all sides, and McCree's men were just as well giving it their all.

Jesse remembered the price he would pay the moment he'd have his hands tied together in shackles. However, a bigger consequence would unfold once they reach the four corners of his cabin, and it wouldn't be him who'll face the bigger ordeal.

It would be Hanzo's doom.

The images of his siren's helplessness and vulnerability clouded his better judgement, and he fired another rapid round of bullets, anything to smother the rise of the adversaries' number and prevent his or Hanzo's captures.

Being stranded on a ship docked on a port presented a new problem in itself: while they have ressuplied only yesterday, those provisions were quickly being gobbled up by the fight, and everyone on board knew that there will come a time when their only resort would be to flee.

And it was ticking near.

"McCree!" The man from before hollered to catch the pirate's attention. Jesse had one last bullet inside the hot cylinder, and he vouched that it would dig straight into the cranium of this fool, but something about his voice felt...off.

It was as if the man was nearer now, just right behind him.

And yet, Jesse turned on impulse, head still muddled and hazy, hand already outstretched with the finger tense on the trigger.

But this time, the deafening shot that fired through the air didn't come from his gun, and Jesse fell on his knees as thick dark blood drenched the wood beneath him.


	14. Commodore Jackass Morrisson

The whole ship stagnated, and both sides had their weapons in the air as they diverted their focus on the crumpled pirate captain, writhing on his own pool of blood as he clutched his left arm like a frightened child would to its mother. Pressing the bloody limb onto his chest, the crimson saturating his thin shirt bloomed menacingly with the flow of the dark red liquid, and his bronze chest beneath began to discolor with unsightly blotches brought upon by the wet garment.

The air was still, thick enough to cut, save for the constant salty sea breeze that blew their matted hairs back. But young Thomas was the first to break free from the silent spell of surreality, and he dove on his knees to come to the aid of the captain who took him in like a little brother. Instantly, he recognized his own demons and teared up at the unfortunate realisation that he knew zero to nothing when it came to the delicate art of CPR. When he had a cut, he'd only suck the affected spot and find that it would be fine the next day. But this wasn't a cut--this was a fricking bullet wound that probably tore through a major artery in Jesse's arm and was costing the captain his life driblet by driblet.

Oh my, what do I do, what do I do?!

"Er, I'm real sorry, Cap'n. I-I don't know much of them doctor stuff." Thomas was hyperventilating, and the blanching of McCree's rugged, sun-kissed face brought a higher degree of alarm that nearly made him faint.

"Thomas, you dingus," Jesse chuckled his fondness for the boy through purpling lips. "Ya don't have to apologize for nothin'."

"But Cap'n-"

The man that commanded the attacking group from the island burst forth in between the two and carelessly shoved the lad back with a rough palm to the shoulder. It didn't take much for Thomas to fall, and he winced when his frail person landed with a dull thud on his back.

"Hurry, tourniquet this scum. The magistrate specifically wants this one alive," he ordered brusquely, snapping his head to those who have already made it over the ship's baluster. With a few commanding strides, he faced the other members of Jesse's unflinching crew dead in the eyes. "If ya don't want to be executed in the gallows with your leader, I suggest you all stay out of this. If yer lucky, the worst you'll go into are the prison cells...but I highly doubt such unproportionate punishment."

Thomas whimpered.

"Nggh--!" Jesse let off a groan of displeasure at being handled with haphazardly in this terrific state he'd been thrown into. Two men kept him sitting upright while a third tore the black cape from his broad shoulders and used that to stop the leaking of the blood.

"Tie all of 'em up separately. Make sure none of 'em's got any knives or tricks up their sleeves. The magistrate is nigh, would be a shame to let these slip from under our noses. T'would be like throwing gold into the ocean."

"Should we search the other rooms, sir?"

McCree's drooping eyes widened with a spark of alarm setting off at the back of his head, and he squirmed against his less than comfortable bindings. He knew that this very exact instance was coming, but the daze that came with his blood-consuming wound forced his senses to dullen and numb, and with it, his sharp thinking and consciousness. He had nearly forgotten about Hanzo as he fought to withstand the undulating onslaught of his physical weakness. But when his beloved's face flashed against his mind's eye, he no longer felt the pull of pain dragging him down, and he strained to protest, much to the alarm of the other pirates.

"Don't go in there," Jesse whispered as they headed for the direction of the main cabin. "It's cursed."

"Ha!" The chief of the village officers threw his head back with a sneer and a mocking laugh. "And I suppose Davy Jones came back to life? Ooh, what's next? There's a mermaid that's flopping about inside and it told you where to find the treasure of the Spanish?"

Jesse paled even further, and he struggled to keep his scowl under his thick brown beard.

Hanzo, you better not do anythin' stupid. Jump back into the ocean while ya still can.

"Pah! Search the whole ship, every cabin, every little nook in the bilge," he barked to those who stood by to keep the prisoners at bay. "We must ensure that there are no other scoundrels who might run off and call for help to some other pirates. And hurry! The magistrate's shadow is upon us. Take every weapon, every gold you find in your search--we'll let his honor decide what to do with 'em."

His voice was definitely loud enough for the merman to hear: This Jesse kept in mind to try and assure himself that when the island officers go into that very cabin, they'll come out minutes later empty handed with a shake of the head and deem the spot clear of any threat.

Then and only then will the captain be okay with meeting his maker.

The bound pirates sat on their bottom, their calloused fists tied behind their backs. They let their heads droop forward, signs of victory or any chance of salvation as bleak as the scratched wooden floors their eyes have set themselves upon.   
The sun was a beast too, only adding to their misery as she shone down white noon light upon their bare skins. They've grown accustomed to such extreme temperaments that it shouldn't bother them really, but the scrutinizing stares of those that guarded their every move made the air hotter than how it actually is.

And then, there was glorious shade, a trickle of mercy from whoever was watching them from above. Only thing of bother was the distant smell of gunpowder and sandalwood, its subtle odor flared up Jesse's nose, and he looked up despite his sore neck; he gave out a quiet gasp.

And there were the familiar white sails, puffed out in the wind like a bird's chest.

"Alright. The whole lot of you," the man began as the others choreographed themselves into a straight line on either side of their commanding chief. "Admiral Morrison is inside that ship with the magistrate as we speak. Make a good impression or I'll make impressions on your sorry skins."

The men said nothing for a reply and instead stood their full height as they waited for the ship to dock beside The Huckleberry. Once berthed and anchored, a wide, sturdy wooden plank was placed on the bigger ship's baluster, and the other end came down to lie atop Jesse's ship's thick red border. One by one, pairs of feet descended the slight incline, and after the common soldiers, came a face that Jesse was all too familiar of, even in his lack of sobriety.

Commodore Jack Morrison, or Jackass Morrison as McCree preferred to call him anyway, was a known face in the English navy. He started his service for local officials until he became one of the leading heads of the navy fleet. His big break was when he took command of an attacked royal fleet and destroyed the enemy ship using only a scarce supply of ammo and guts. The captain back then was unconscious, hit, and his prestigious performance in the face of danger earned him the appraising eyes of his superiors. Last time McCree encountered him, he only had one star on his name and an outraged look on his face. If he was admiral--then that meant he had already acquired four.

That's quick--and it's only been a year!

Nevertheless, Jesse kept a pokerface on despite the bubbling disquiet that boiled in his gut upon sight of so many enemy faces aboard his ship. But his tempest intensified the most when he saw the familiar locks of ebony hair gathered into a loose ponytail swishing lightly in the sea breeze. His ivory white coat was fastened together by golden frogs, and the absence of any sort of grunge was an affront to the dirty life at sea most sailors were subjected to. His high black boots reached the top of his knees. They were shiny, polished, and it reflected the sunlight overhead. Pressed right against his hip was a holster just like McCree's, only this one was black, unchipped, and very much brand new. Jesse didn't recognize the gun tucked in there before, and he groaned again, remembering how lavishly this man treated himself and his property for the sake of good public image.

Well it certainly worked: The people love him, fall for every word he said.

Idiots, the whole lot of them.

"Captain Jesse McCree," he began with a smile that feigned surprise, "or should I say, my prisoner. Do you remember who I am?"

"Remember you?" McCree spat despite the strength ebbing away from his body. "I wish I could forget."

The captain swore he heard Duncan chuckling in the back.

"After I'm done with you, you'd wish you never even saw me," the stranger replied with little amusement, bending low from the waist to search any flicker of fear he might have instilled in the pirate's covered eyes. "You'll remember this as the day when I, John Laurens Preacher, magistrate under the king, rid his majesty's seas from the filthy thieving hands of the likes of you."

"Ya dare call me and my guys thieves when you yerself burned the merchant's village down in the middle of the night, took their gold, and blamed tha whole thing on them Shambali monks?" Jesse challenged, despite the continuous numbing of his injured limb.

"I have governors, officers, and members of the royal staff for friends," the magistrate shot back as Morrison watched from the side. "What good would I get from burning down a measly flea market?"

"Beats me. You've always been an evil little motherfucker."

Taken aback by the expletive directed towards him, Preacher took the silver pistol from his black holster and pressed the end of the barrel directly against McCree's brow.

"You better be careful with that mouth of yours, scum," Laurens hissed, baring angry teeth that ground against one another. "It's filthy just as you are that I don't even want to think about where it's been."

"Well it's been with more beautiful women than you'll ever have, that's for sure."

The quick, witty repartee forced a subtle smirk from the hardened Commodore, and he coughed into his gloved fist in an effort to suppress it.

The pirates at the back didn't even try.

"Commodore Morrison!" Preacher called out. "Secure these prisoners in the bilge of this ship. We sail back to England's port with the whole package!"

"As you wish," Jack conceded with a salute as he turned back to give regards to the island forces who impeded Jesse's escape.

"Oh, and can I have some medics here?" Laurens yelled over his shoulder, towards the rest of his ship's crew who paused in their tracks to regard their leader. "Make sure this lowlife here doesn't bleed to death." He then turned to McCree with a sinister grin that portended the hellhole that awaited the pirate the very moment their two ships reach the shores of England. "That's my job."

"Huh," Jesse huffed groggily with half lidded gazes, "Ya still are the sadistic bitch I knew as a kid."

"And I intend to be when they leave me in charge of your godforsaken soul."

"I actually have a soul."

There was a glint of mischief in Laurens' eyes, and his stupid smirk only widened.

"Not for long you won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this guy's a butt. Problem is, I based his name off my classmate and he's a nice guy. -_-
> 
> Anyhow, tune in for the next chapter guys! It's the trial.


	15. One Last Look

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey......this ain't the trial yet, I kid. XD
> 
> Ok this chapter is shorter than the others, but the next one will be kinda long. So, sorry about that! :3
> 
> Please leave kudos if you enjoyed loves! :*

"So...you admiral now, huh? Well would ya look at that," Jesse asked as his head limply sloshed between Duncan's and Thomas' stiff shoulders, moving along with the boat's motions against the waves.

"Rear admiral," Morrison clarified gruffly, "two stars."

At the moment he was tending to Jesse's arm, making sure that the medics' bandage work wouldn't fall apart and that even pressure was always applied. With the guidance of past experiences unfolding before him, he also saw to it that the captain wouldn't fall asleep at all costs; a dead pirate wasn't of much use or value inside the court room.

They would have wasted time and resources coming here in the first place if such a thing were to happened, and the mere thought sent shivers of bitterness running through his efficient person.

Think of all the stuff I could've done with that time.

"Nggh--easy now, partner," McCree coughed without notice and startled Jack from where he sat. "Ya don't want ta choke the life out of mah arm."

"S-Sorry," the rear admiral muttered without making any eye contact whatsoever, adjusting his strength to the desired grip. The lack of any sound coming from this handsome blond was amusing to Jesse, and since he had nothing but time and darkness, he decided to give in to his curiosities and opened his mouth to start the mischief.

"Ya don't talk much do you?" McCree inquired with a grin, watching as deft gloved hands got smeared with sanguine smudges.

"So should you," Morrison reproved, finally looking up with a snap of the head, and in the next second, sharp blue eyes met brown ones. "In case you get too comfortable, I don't fancy mingling with the likes of you."

"A handsome, rough scallywag?"

"No, a criminal."

McCree's smile suddenly dropped, and so did his eyelids. For a moment, the rear admiral thought he had finally snuffed Jesse's coy, smug spirits, until he realized something. Jack's crisp orbs shrunk in alarm, remembering the minute responsibility he had to uphold against the wounded prisoner. Immediately, his bottom left the wood of his seat and he slapped McCree across the face, shooting a spike of pain across the pirate's head that momentarily drove away the fatigue.

"The hell-!"

"You know you can't sleep, pirate!" Morrison scolded with a stiff, shaking finger pointed at the silenced pirate's face. "Don't try to outrun the law by dying before your execution day."

"What's the point of a trial if they're gonna just hang me anyway?" McCree fired back, bloodshot eyes circling with indignation.

"It's a formal occasion." Morrison made sure to enunciate the third word. "Just to make it clear to the people of England that we don't kill people willy-nilly just for the heck of it. We prove that there were crimes committed, and that there will be appropriate punishments exercised."

"Don't talk appropriate in front of my face when you're wearin' the coats of the people responsible for the murder of my pa," McCree seethed, taking Jack aback, judging from the slight raise of his brows. "You look just like one o' em. Y'all left me with nothin'. But in all truthfulness, I got ya to thank: I wouldn't be the greatest captain of the seas you know now if it weren't for the whole lot of you. I'd probably have been a common merchant or...I dunno, somethin' lame-"

"Quit talking," Jack ordered, clamping a palm over Jesse's open mouth. "You'll need all of your energy to survive this long trip. I suggest you be efficient and save it."

The familiar smell of aristocratic perfumes wafted into the pirate's nostrils as soon as the glove made contact with his skin. He spared a shudder, then a glare before yawning. "Can I sleep though? I'm mighty tired, partner."

"Hmmm..." Jack gave him a long, thoughtful look before he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I'll go ahead and ask. You stay put in here and don't make a mess of things...as if you can really go anywhere."

McCree heard the last part just as Morrison's person finished climbing the flight of stairs leading back up to the bright deck. When he was out of sight, McCree let his head roll back and lean against one of the parallel wooden frames that served as the ship's skeleton. It was like a hard pillow more than anything, and yet he found so much comfort in that little moment of stillness. He breathed in the salty air, listened to the noisy squawking of the distant seagulls; it was all too trivial, but at the moment, he was content with everything.

Plus, he didn't have that blond babysitter of his burning holes against him and his mates as they drew air into their lungs.

"Jesse..."

Oh look, he was hearing voices now. The captain was wondering when this specific symptom was coming, and it looked like he didn't have to wait any longer. Next on the agenda: hallucinations.

"Jesse."

At the second mention of his name, the captain lifted his head off of its wooden resting place and dared to part his eyelids, letting what little light there was to permeate his vision.

And there he was, an angel haloed by the brilliance of the sun shining through the bilge's circular windows.

"Hanzo." McCree's voice was shaky, and without thinking, he leapt forward and encased the siren's sopping, kneeling form into his good arm. There was the uncomfortable ridge between them that was Jesse's bandaged arm, folded against his chest. But Hanzo didn't seem to mind; he returned his pirate's gesture and hugged him gently despite the want to tackle him, very much aware of the injury on Jesse's appendage. The other pirates opened an eye or two to look and watch, and they immediately took it upon themselves to clamp their lips shut and keep the noise to a minimum. For all they knew--and the feeling in their guts was resonating a common accord--this could be the last time their captain's orbs could see the one thing that will keep him going, the very thing that will give him the courage to face the gallows with a smile.

"Jesse, I came back to see you," the merman began, his breath ghosting over the chapped skin of McCree's lips as he cupped the hairy jaw inches from his touch. "Where are they taking you? Who injured you? Are you in dire pain?"

"I'm fine, Han." McCree gave off a signature deep chuckle, and he held the merman's fine tresses in his hand, letting them slip through broad fingers before his rough palm settled on the other's bony cheek. "How can I not be? When I just saw the hottest thing ever in the seven seas?"

Taken aback, Hanzo could only laugh, an immediate thoughtless response, and he nuzzled into the warm skin of his lover with a sigh of gratification.

"But seriously, Han, ya need to leave. Morrison will be back any second." Jesse's voice had lost its playfulness, and he gripped the merman's naked shoulder with vice grip that nearly hurt. "Han, I can't let them get ya. I might have an appointment with the noose, but I ain't lettin' 'em lay a single whip mark on you."

'They're going to hang you? Is this what this is?" Hanzo blanched. "Jesse-"

There were arguing voices raging overhead, and the thumping sounds of incoming footsteps shook the roof above them.

"Of course, I'll see to it that he doesn't sleep for too long." Morrison's voice was near, and Jesse's heartbeat raced.

"Go, go now, Han," Jesse whispered frantically, trying to keep himself together with a forced smile that failed to mask the sorrow in his eyes. "Ya need to leave."

"Jesse, you know I can't-"

He was suddenly silenced by the warm, ticklish feel of the pirate's lips against his mouth, and he found himself melting under the romantic spell. McCree wasted no time, drinking in the taste of Hanzo for what was the last time before he broke the chains that bound them together, before he'll finally let him go.

It felt so surreal; he remembered having to do this exact feat and he remembered how much he dreaded the emptiness of his cabin, the thought of never being able to hold the siren again, to feel his warmth when things got too cold. This epiphany crashing down onto him like a brick only made him kiss Hanzo harder, almost with a bruising force, and to his surprise, the merman mirrored the exact hunger with the movement of his lips, the lapping of his scraborous tongue.

"Hanzo, go."

Pulling away, Hanzo's eyes were glistening with tears, and his parted lips swelled from the rash treatment.

"Tell me you love me," the merman was pleading, voice reduced to a pathetic whisper as he caressed the scratches on Jesse's features.

"You know I do darlin'," McCree replied earnestly. "I love you so much, and I won't forgive myself if they so much as hit ya. Go ahead, swim away, and...and be happy this time. Find someone who'll take care of ya better than I. Go on, darlin', the window's right there."

Reluctance was an understatement as Hanzo pulled his pale hand away from the tanned periphery of his lover. He trembled, trying to contain the sorrow that engulfed him. He gave the stricken pirate one quick peck before he dashed off back to the window from whence he came and jumped back into the waves of the raging seas, the blue abyss he called his home.

McCree didn't even get the chance to kiss him back that time; it was so quick, so sudden, like a lightning that disappeared as soon as it had flashed.

A splash against the water, and the siren was gone.

"Goodbye, Hanzo."

Seconds after that, Morrison appeared with a hard slam of the small hatch above him; his red face spelled annoyance, a once elastic rubber band that was pulled too hard, ready to snap. With a sigh, he turned to face the others, seemingly unaware of the somber atmosphere that wafted about after the secret farewell that exchanged between the captain and his beloved.

"Alright, pirate, the medics said that you can sleep," Jack declared, briskly running a palm down his sharp, fair features. "But I'll wake you up every now and then, maybe one hour intervals."

At that, McCree let out a loud chuckle that had his body jerking forward, earning him the surprised faces of the rear admiral and the rest of the pirates that sat by beside him.

"That won't be needed, partner." Jesse's voice dropped an octave, and he stared the captain down through the thin curtain of his stray brown locks with a half-lidded gaze. "I don't feel like sleepin' no more."  
"Are you certain?" Morrison asked, lifting a brow at the captain's change of decision. "It's going to be a long trip."

"Maybe later," Jesse answered. "But right now, I'm...I'm too hurt to do nothin'. Just let me be."

The blond official nodded simply and resumed his seat on the small oaken chair to guard the prisoners. He had no idea why, or how, but it seemed as though the great Jesse McCree has lost the will to fight, to try and escape. Heck, there was neither snarky nor cordial remarks coming from the pirate when he came back from the main deck.

The captain hadn't even been hanged yet, and still Jack reckoned that McCree looked like a dismal corpse then than on the very day he'll breathe his last.


	16. The Trial

The prison cells underground were nothing short of dirty, grungy, and bleak. The once peach walls became a chipped expanse of bleached gray, no doubt from the moisture that surrounded the area. It also did wonders to the once thick black iron bars, rusting an odorous dark mahogany which resembled the coppery smell of spilt blood.

Lovely.

"You'll be staying here for awhile until your trial tomorrow," Jack said as he escorted the public enemy into one of the darker, more isolated cells located near the rear of the concrete hall. "If you're lucky, you'll be sentenced to sleep here again for one more night."

"I don't see what's so lucky with prolongin' the inevitable, partner," McCree replied coolly despite the scratchy, abrading rope that dug into the skin of his reddening wrists, bound together behind his back with only a little gap in between, just enough for slight movements. "What happens to my crew?"

"They're kept near the front areas of the corridor; some by themselves, most by threes, and others in pairs. Some of the guards are worried that there are a few match-ups that will go well together that they might go about using their wit and pick-a-lock pirate skills to break out. I figured it doesn't matter who they're with really; even with combined heads they won't be able to make a successful escape even if they put all their effort into it," Morrison sighed as he twisted the key with a click into the hole of Jesse's cell. "Now you," he paused to point a finger, "you're another story entirely. Which is why you're going to spend the night alone in these shadows. I think that's no problem since you seem to be accustomed here."

"Accustomed?" McCree spat with a mocking laugh. "Admiral, your people have been throwin' me in this very room since the very first time they caught me. You see that pillow? If ya come here and get a whiff, you can still smell a little bit of me in there from my last capture."

"I don't really want to-"

"Your loss."

Jack rolled his eyes incredulously and he sighed as he turned a heel to walk away, tucking the loop of corroded keys back into the insides of his blue coat.

"And you might want to look as presentable as possible for the medics that Magistrate Laurens has assigned to tend to your arm," Morrison added, brusquely halting his long strides to face the easy going pirate."Sweep your hair back or something. You look like a mess."

McCree only smiled as he propped his butt down the worn wooden bed that shrilly creaked with the pressure of his weight. A few more successive squeaks followed suit when he propped his good arm up on the ledge of the bed to aid him in going supine, and once his head hit the soiled, begrimed pillow that he apparently has had a history with, he sighed all his weariness out and waited for the supposed medics with a whistle of his favorite shanty tune and the hollow of his hat over his rugged face.

"Whatever you say, admiral."

***

"Jesse McCree stands before us today as a mutineer, a pillager, a plunderer, a murderer, a criminal, a thief, a swindler, a public menace, and most of all, a pirate. As of today he and his crew have ransacked a hundred villages, stolen the king's treasure's worth of gold..."

The list went on, but McCree no longer listened. He figured it was all going to be a bunch of political jargon, bla bla bla, before they really finalize on the "you're sentenced to death" part, and even that section still had a bunch of unnecessary drivel thrust into it.

He scratched his ear, then his nails went down to lightly scrap at the rough clump of hair that was his beard, and he wondered if these highstrung officials could spare this sinner's soul one last wish and let him shave his tanned face clean.

Gotta look good on the day you die.

McCree had two guards on either side of him: one of them was Morrison, and the other one was a small brunette with short-cut hair and lean frame that could easily cling onto his body should the pirate try to escape.

"Hey there," McCree flashed her a smug smile. "What's a little lady like you doin' here with all these blue-coated eyesores?"

"I don't know, love," she replied haughtily. "What is the 'great Jesse McCree' doing here? I expected to find you at sea, not in chains."

"Yeah, me too, darlin'." Jesse sighed as he nodded his head. "Me too."

The elderly judge sitting up front and center gripped at the gavel's slim handle, and he lifted it up to strike one side against the flat wooden top with none other than Preacher and the jury watching intently with still eyes. They looked like they forgot to breathe.

"The evidence piled against the accused is irrefutable and without further ado, I sentence this man to be hanged tomorrow-"

"Wait!" A deep voice resonated from the doorway, and the various heads among the shabby throng all looked side to side with powdered faces painted in confusion and disbelief, trying to find the source of the loud, abrupt impertinence that shook the small court room.

Even Jesse and his crew, whose features remained as interested and concerned as a brick for the duration of their litigation, had their brows raised and mouths slightly opened as their heads turned to look over their shoulders. There, it seemed as though the people have finally found their interferer, for they skitted their heeled feet to the sides, creating an ample aisle walled by commoners and aristocrats alike to place the mystery person in the spotlight for all to regard with their own opinions; good, bad, or even a little bit of both.

Whispers broke out as they watched the strange bearded man, dressed in a blue bathrobe of some sort, making his way barefoot to the judge, the magistrate, and the seated old men who were no doubt playing a part concerning McCree's freedom.

His straight ebony hair ended to his chest in wet tresses, and the small tufts of gray that fanned out of the sides of his face accentuated his sharp, angular features, as well as the clear tawny eyes that held a spark of determination and the testimony of a tortured, battered soul that still swirled within. But the one thing that the curious, prying eyes couldn't take their focus off was the small half-filled flask he carried upright in one broad fist.

Was he planning on sharing a drink with the judge?

Stopping a good distance away from the raised podium, he pursed his lips into a tight line, and then he looked to the side, just enough for the pirate to see the entirety of his countenance.

Jesse gasped with peas for pupils as the captain's worst nightmare was realized.

"Hanzo," he could only mutter as dread knocked the wind out of his lungs.

He trembled in his bindings as he watched the siren take a step closer, before his chest puffed up lightly with a sharp intake of breath, grasping for any thread of courage. Then, wasting no time, he parted his lips to speak to the people with a dry mouth and a heavy tongue that blocked the air from his throat.

"People of England, I know that this pirate that stands before you here, Captain Jesse McCree, has done a number of numerous atrocities to your kingdom that seem unforgivable and despicable," Hanzo boomed, his arms gesturing to match the words that spilled from his lips. "The sentence of death seems befitting for a man with such a reputation across the seas, and it sounds like the perfect answer to end all of your problems." He paused one more. "But what if he could pay back every gold bar he stole? Every shilling?"

"Who are you and where are you going with this impertinent display?" Laurens asked sharply, turning to the blue coated guards with veins throbbing on his temple. "Get him out of here, he is disturbing this trial!"

The two guards at the entrance were nearly knocked over by the force of their superior's voice, and they skittered to reach the merman.

"Please, before you pull me out," Hanzo exclaimed, putting his palms out, "I want to say that I can pay for this man's crimes."

"We don't want your money, Mr. Whoever you are." The elderly judge struggled to rise from his seat. "We want to put this man where he is sentenced to and bring the people of England back their peace of mind."

"Alright," Hanzo hummed, "if it's justice you want, then I shall present to all of you a man of more atrocities than this pirate has ever done."

"And who would that be?" Laurens inquired dubiously with a sneer and a raised black brow.

Hanzo smirked in return. "Merfolk."

A jolt of angst shot through the back of Jesse's head, and without warning, he lurched forward from his seat, startling the masses with the force he used that knocked the nearby chairs a few feet back.

"What in the hell are you doin', Hanzo?!" the captain screamed, nearly landing on his face as he lost his footing along with his composure. Morrison hurriedly leapt to where he was and restrained his captive's rambunctious racket by wrapping two strapping arms around his torso and hauling him back to where he once sat. It was no easy feat, but one short glare from Hanzo's part forced the pirate to calm down a little bit, for him to get a tittle of his composure back together. Though the anger on both their faces was still evident, McCree was rendered silent, drowning in a thick pool of vivid visions of all the things that could go wrong with Hanzo's foolish display.

The fact that this was only the beginning of what the siren had in store only made it all the more difficult for Jesse to breathe. He was suffocating.

"Merfolk?" the judge repeated, trying to get a clear grasp of the words around him.

"Certainly," Hanzo confirmed with a nod. "I can bring you one of their kin: alive and breathing, free for you to do whatever you please. My only catch: You let Captain McCree and his entire crew go free."

"Do you really think some mermaid is a good parallel to the crimes the accused Jesse McCree has committed?" Laurens asked again, not at all satisfied with the sudden option.

Hanzo noticed this too, and yet he had no intentions of letting up as well. "How is it not? Look back at all the inconveniences, all the bloodshed these creatures have caused upon your people." He turned a heel to face the entirety of the onlookers and continued, "They've destroyed some of your majesty's ships, wiped out their fleets, and dragged soldiers and common fishermen alike to the hell that is the dark ocean depths. I'm certain that everyone of you is aware of all these things I'm saying."

Silence ensued, but the spell didn't last long.

"My son was pulled out of his boat by a mermaid!" A shabby village woman wailed from the corner of where she sat.

"Mermaids tried to sabotage my grandfather's ship!" Another one stood up.

"Those creatures tried to take my father out of his boat!"

"They tried taking my husband!"

Moments after, the soldiers gave in to the uproar the people have set up.

"Some of our men were lured by their wicked singing!"

"They hypnotized our men! We once lost an entire fleet to them."

"They took the life of my brother!"

"They took away our artillery and then they tried to murder us!"

"We must kill them before they kill the whole lot of us."

"We have to wage war on them to end their madness!"

"We can't afford to loose anymore lives!"

"Bring the mermaid out! I want to give it a piece of my mind!"

"So do I!"

"I second!"

The murmurs rippled into clamoring shouts, and the different statements one individual gave to another sowed accord in the hearts of many that had them coming into one mutual decision. They were an open book, if the volume of their voices and the crimson scowl were any indication, and it made Hanzo smiled. He had succeeded.

However, one can never be too sure, and the siren took it upon himself to seal the deal with one last remark: "Jesse McCree has only stolen gold, silver, and diamonds alike; maybe even plunged a small country into debt. But all these things are things that people can buy again, work for and save up. Do you really think you can do the same with the lives of the loved ones you lost? Are Captain McCree's crimes really comparable to those of an enemy you've unsuccessfully tried to battle for centuries?"

"But still!" Laurens interrupted fiercely, shaking the stone columns that supported the place. "Jesse McCree is a criminal who has done very wrong things and should be subjected to the proper punishment! We don't pardon the likes of him."

"I wasn't talking about clemency, your honor. Rather, I said I could pay for all the damage he has done," Hanzo clarified with a glare. "Listen to the people, see what they prefer!"

"Bring us the siren!" They bellowed as loud as their lungs would let them."

"I still think we shouldn't consider, your honor," Preacher hissed, turning to the elder judge with the calm slipping from his face. "It's just a mermaid!"

"I'm not going to bring just any mermaid," Hanzo announced readily, and like a mother's touch, the people ceased their incessant buzzing. "I can bring you one of their leaders this very moment."

The last statement elicited a round of gasps from the onlookers behind him, and they surged forward, eager to side with the stranger whom they've just grown a repugnance to only some several minutes ago. Preacher looked on in disbelief, and the old judge whose eyes were as dull as unpolished jewels for most of that time finally showed off a glint of interest as he leaned from where he sat.

"And what do you hope to accomplish with this proposition of yours, my good man?" he asked with a dry, raspy voice that Hanzo could barely hear.

"If I turn the creature over, I'll finally have justice over the murder of my younger brother," the siren replied calmly, and yet his hands shook, struggling with the mundane task of not letting the flask fall from the grip of his fingers. "A merman killed him ten years ago...and I've wanted nothing but justice ever since."

He caught on the judge's expression as he contemplated on Hanzo's words, as he weighed the pros and cons of his final verdict. It was obvious to anyone that the jury already sided with this unforeseen change of pace. However, Preacher remained bullheaded and pressed on with their earlier decision of hanging McCree.

It had to be a consensus, or they'd be disregarding Preacher's position as magistrate and judge.

"If you want--" Hanzo pulled the old man from his world of analysis, "you can put him under Preacher's hold. He shall supervise the creature."

"Hanzo, stop this-!" McCree called out angrily, but his other guard caught on his attempt of making another ruckus and quickly wrapped a piece of cloth around his mouth, filling in the spaces between his rows of sharp teeth. His screams came out in a muffled mess, and yet he didn't relent.

"Hmmm...a merfolk under my hold?" Laurens hummed as he pinched his bare pointed chin.

"Think of everyone that would love you when they see how you've vanquished the enemy of the people of England. Your name shall never die in books and lore, and your name will be all that the people could say on their lips," Hanzo coaxed, knowing that his adversary's hesitation already guaranteed his victory. "How can you say no to that, Mr. Preacher?"

"Well, I would look quite dashing in print," he murmured to himself before he snapped his gaze back to the shorter man. "Alright. Let Jesse and his little band if misfits go. After all, what good would I get killing him? I'll just be another official who killed another pirate."

"Then let it be know that on this day, you evoke your sentence of death to Jesse and his crew, on the account that I present to you the creature I promised."

The judge gave a shrug of his shoulders and brought the gavel down at last. The sharp thud was music to Hanzo's ears, and he turned back to the white-suited official with a proud smug smile.

"Excellent choice--you really are a smart man."

"Of course I am. But know this: They cause as much as an uproar here in his majesty's lands and back to the gallows it is for the whole lot of them! Now, where is this mermaid you promised?"

At that, Hanzo took a few steps back before putting the flask out for all the people to see. Undoubtedly, the strange action brought him the scrutinizing eyes of the commonfolk, and some were quick to judge, already questioning his credibility.

"Come and get him."

The bottle was tipped, and the liquid inside swirled at the sudden jerk and flushed down the short nozzle and onto the smooth stone floor in a messy pool that seeped in between his tones. Within seconds, his knees bucked beneath him, and his weight brought him crashing down onto the hard ground.

People began to move back, and the women started screaming as his pale legs throbbed into blue scaly limbs that meshed at the center. The pads of his feet stretched out and became the wide yellow tail that flopped and swished about in alarm. At that moment Preacher stepped down from the podium and stared in aghast at the creature that sat vulnerable in the center of the court room.

"Merman."

Seeing him exposed to the dozens and dozens of wide eyes, Jesse finally found the strength to break free, and he clambered over to Hanzo as his crew tried to subtly trip the guards that came after him.

"Hanzo, are you out of your mind?!" Jesse screamed, his veins throbbing in his neck and temples as his skin burned a hot shade of red. "What do you think you're doin'?"

"Jesse, if you have so much as a pinprick of respect for me, you will let me do this," Hanzo whispered yelled, locking his eyes onto the face of his lover with a dark glower.

"Han, I told you to swim away!"

"You're free now, that's all that matters." Amidst the deafening shouts of the masses, the captain could clearly detect the trace of sorrow and heartbreak that laced his strong selfless words. "Go back to The Huckleberry with your crew, sail wherever you please." He paused, lifting a hand to caress the scratches and marks on his lover's tortured face, mirroring his own spirits. "You are a good man. And you have so much left in you-"

The next sound that came out of Hanzo was a strangled gurgle as a thick leather loop tightened around his neck and yanked him back with a sudden force from the warmth of the pirate. Staring up with tears brimming his eyes, Hanzo caught a glimpse of Preacher, looming over him with a sadistic grin that reminded McCree of the Cheshire cat.

"There, a bind befitting an animal," Laurens laughed cruelly with a sneer as another robust yank forced the air out of Hanzo's throat. "I can't wait to see what I can do with you."

"Get your hands off of him, you motherfucker!" McCree commanded fiercely with a voice that was hell defined, and he threw a folded arm back, preparing to drive a bony fist into the official's smug white face when Duncan came up behind him and gripped his forearm with a vice grip.

"Captain, you're being rash!" the other pirate scolded, "You'll cost us our lives."

"Jesse, listen to him," Hanzo wheezed as his fingers circled around the meat of his throat. "Go. Leave me be."

"Darlin'-"

"Go!" Hanzo admonished, the black pupils shrinking into slits. "Fool! For once in your life, learn how to listen!"

"I ain't leavin'." McCree spat and stood his ground despite Morrison watching close by.

"Very well," Hanzo sighed in exasperation. "Sebastian."

"On it," the short man said as he grabbed a nearby chair and hit his captain square at the back of his head.

In no less than half a minute, Jesse was chest down on the ground, hat floating a few feet away, with the whole of his strength ebbing away from his person.

"H-Han..."

But he didn't get to finish. He was already out cold.


	17. Torture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: torture and Preacher being a complete dick

"Where are we going, aniki?"

"Up, Genji." Hanzo replied as he swam through a hidden cave somewhere beneath the sea, his green-tailed brother trailing not so far behind him. "We'll go look for more of those trinkets to put in your chest."

"Really?" The lad's eyes sparkled as he smiled. "I thought you and the elders disapproved of that a long time ago."

"We did, but you never listen anyway."

"Oh come on, Hanzo!" he whined, giving a powerful flap of his fin against the water to catch up to his older brother who was already some ways ahead of him, nearly out of the gaping mouth from which one could escape the enormous sea cave they travelled under the darkness of. "You know as much as I do that those objects we see up there are so much more interesting than anything we have. I mean, they don't want it anyway, right? I don't see why we can't keep it."

"You're just lucky it wasn't your time yet," Hanzo spat with a roll of his eyes. "They dig deep enough through those golden coins on your precious chest and the elders are going to have our heads once they spot our little collection."

"We've been doing this ever since we were children, Hanzo. They haven't caught us ever since!"

"They do have their suspicions," Hanzo replied as he froze in the water and took a moment to adjust his eyes to the brilliance of the white sunlight that suddenly pervaded his vision.

Genji squinted as well, but putting a hand above his brow for some shade gave way for his brown orbs to recover and he skated them all over the blue expanse of water, trying to decipher exactly where they were. What greeted him was a gradient of pinks and yellows and reds and greens, all of which came from the array of coral and sponges that sat on white sand, with a rainbow of assorted fishes that swam and hunted by the thousands.

Genji smiled at the beauty of the mellow sight: They were almost above the surface of the ocean!

And right there, little whatsits and seemingly useless contraptions littered the sea bed here and there, some of which Genji had seen in abundance from the very first time his inquisitive nature took courage and flight.

"Hey look--it's one of those weird metal shells, Genji." Hanzo hummed, examining a golden cylinder with a glass end that laid nearby, it's once lustrous surface peppered with mounds of fine white sand.

"That's not a shell," Genji scoffed incredulously, snatching the object away from his brother's hands. "It's called a 'telescope'."

As if to demonstrate his expertise, the green siren curled his hands around each end and pulled the two apart, adding length to the short stubby tube by three parts, each getting wider and bigger as it neared the tip.

Behold, the miraculous telescope.

"What does it even do?"

"I suppose you need an intellectual to always take the reins, huh?"

Hanzo only rolled his eyes at his brother's blatant display of pride.

"See, I've seen people do this," Genji began. "They take the small end, put it over their eye, and then everything becomes bigger. Like this." The younger merman demonstrated each step of the process in sync with his words, and in no time, the smaller end of the contraption was pressed against his right eye.

After a few minutes of turning his head from side to side, Genji's lips that once curled up in wonder, narrowed into a sneer before parting to speak with his brother, "Do you mind getting out of the way? Your big head is blocking the sunlight!"

When the somber ambience of the shadow remained, Genji tore the telescope from his eye with a scowl ready on his visage. His brown orbs darted left and right, up to down in search for the other merman, but Hanzo was nowhere within sight, and with the ticking time, Genji's anger dissipated.

"Aniki?" he called out.

Silence.

"Hanzo!"

With no warning whatsoever, a quick blur of brown sped down Genji's side, and the young merman looked up after giving a yelp of surprise, only to find that there were more of whatever it was coming down upon him from above.

Fortunately for him, he swam with the speed of a marlin and dodged with the agility of a sailfish. When he finally had the time to inspect, he found the strange objects to be heavy rusted anchors attached to thick chains. They had been thrown carelessly overboard, and their tremendous weight had crushed, mashed, and split corals in half.

Genji stared at the destruction all around him, and his adrenaline urged him to swim away--any direction whatsoever--just as long as he'd get past this.

But before he could even get into position, nets were dropped down, with their ends tied to stones for added weight. He was blocked on all corners, and the only way without any obstructions was up.

"Hanzo!"

He struggled against the enclosing holed walls, and to his misfortune, he looked down only to find the ends of his tail entangled with the green meshes.

"Aniki!" he called out desperately, head fuzzy with intense emotion. "Hanzo, where are you?"

There was no answer. No one came, even as the nets started to eat their way up again, as the hands of the fishermen grasped and held and griped.

"Aniki!" Genji took every opportunity to call for aid, to yell at the top of his lungs. "Aniki, help!"

The surface of the waves were mere inches from his face, and right then, he dared to swerve his head to the side, to keep them underwater for as long as he was able.

And there were the things he sought for: his brother's tawny orbs shining amber in the shadows of the cave.

But not once did they move to look at him. Instead, Hanzo turned back and swam away back into the cold waters that mirrored his heart.

***

A wide woven basket without handles skidded across the small room from the small kick of Preacher's black boot and ended on the dull, dark patch on the floor where Hanzo's bloodshot eyes were staring at mindlessly. The basket softly hit the front of his wooden confinement and the little disturbance earned Laurens a sullen glare, which only added a faint touch of emotion to the siren's already sickly pallor.

"I have heard of your kind's ability to make pearls out of your own tears," the official begun, one by one taking each of his fingers out from the confines of his white gloves. "Cry into the basket."

Hanzo didn't say anything, and he showed his refusal with a subtle snarl and a further furrowing of his brows towards the center of his face. His silence gave a clear answer to Preacher's command, and the magistrate quickly caught on to his captive's opposition. Sparing a sharp click of the tongue, Preacher dove down without warning and drove a hardened fist into the merman's stomach, and Hanzo's eyes widened as he coughed out violently, the sudden pain seizing his abdomen by the torrents.

Hanzo officially proved himself to be a cumbersome prisoner under the magistrate's watch in the short time he has spent trapped here, but if any sort of anguish could tear those layers of resistance out of him, then Preacher will just have to make a friend out of pain and agony, and use those to force the siren into mindless submission.

After all, he had nothing but time and imagination. He was the master in these parts, and Hanzo better learn to heed to him and his orders if he knows what's good for him.

"I said cry into the basket," Preacher repeated, darting a hand to the back of Hanzo's head to grab a fistful of black hair and pull it down so he'd be forced to face the official without the obstruction of disregard getting in the way.

"I can't," Hanzo huffed with finite patience, hissing at the stinging pain that fizzled on his pale scalp. "I don't weep when I'm not hurt."

"Is that so?" Preacher stood up without a pause and immediately grabbed for the handle of the kempt black whip that hung by his hip. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to hand it to you."

There was a crack like thunder in the air, and Hanzo flinched back in the water where he sat in. He anticipated a sting on his skin, a burning slit. Instead, he found that he was unscathed when he parted his eyelids and roamed his amber orbs upon the expanse of his fair skin; the quick rush of adrenaline began to subside at the abscene of any wounds.

"One last chance, creature," the magistrate whispered through gritted teeth, the depth of his voice sending a shiver in Hanzo's form that the merman refused to show. "Cry or I'll show you just how much I can do to your kind!"

The siren curled his fingers further in, digging the sharp nails into the meat of his palm. He shook with indignation, his face steaming red at the bigoted thinking that his incorrigible captor had centered his actions on for many years. There was no way even in hell that he'd give in to the demands of this beast, even with the threat of pain becoming all too real.

"I'd rather you kill me," he hissed, lifting a yellow fin and slapping it down against the surface of the shallow water. The splash flew forth beyond the brim of the container and soaked the front of the magistrate's ivory garments down to the boot. "I'll never heed to your demands."

"Before I'm even done with you, you will really be begging for your grave," Preacher promised, and with that, he brought his hand down, and the sharp length of the whip hit him square on the back.

Hanzo lurched forward with a pained scream that shook the walls of the shabby grey room. His back was on fire, and there was nothing he could do to soothe it.

"A-aah..." the siren panted, shut-eyed, in an effort to push any ounce of strength back into his being,

"There's more where that came from, and I could go on for a long time, merman" Preacher said. "I can end your pain right now, just give me what I want."

Hanzo opened one eye, shoulders shaking in shock from the sudden assault on his body. At the back of his mind, he thought of giving in to the demands of the official, anything to dampen the different sorts of sadistic consequences the man will place down upon him. But he caught a glimpse of Genji in his mind's eye. He was there, wrapped in a multitude of nets, and he was flailing for his life. Hanzo remembered how he just stilled as his brother was being hauled up into the boats, how he told himself that his brother's capture would be for the betterment of all merfolk. Without Genji endangering the whole lot of them with his inquisitive ways, he had finally done his job as their ruler. He remembered how he conceded to the elders' wish to discard their unsightly chest filled with assorted human trinkets all the way beyond the shoreline.

Looking back at it, Hanzo was filled with hate for himself, and he rebuked his being, telling him that he deserved every ounce of pain inflicted upon him as payment for the treachery he had committed to a kin--and his brother no less.

So he stared Preacher down with steely eyes, and he tensed the entirety of his being before speaking his mind's desire: "Go ahead. Do your worst."

The cloud of animosity erupted into murderous wrath, and Laurens threw the whip to the side in a fit of disbelief. The object flew some ways before hitting the wall with a sharp thud and landing onto the dusty floor. The man pulled his folded arm back behind his shoulder, only to bring the fist down against the merman's cheek at a crushing speed. There was a crack, like a dull snap of a twig that rang in the air, and blood rushed down from the open wound Preacher inflicted upon the merman's face. No doubt it would purple and bruise not much later on, but as of the moment, all Hanzo saw were floating stars swimming about his vision, and all he could register was that he had fallen back into the shallow depth of the water, judging from the gentle touches that lapped against his skin.

"You are going to give me those pearls, damn it!" He heard the magistrate curse at the top of his lungs, the rage evident like bugs that crawled on one's skin. "I'll get it out of you, one way or another!"

"You can't break me," Hanzo spat back as he groggily wiped the blood that seeped into one corner of his lips. "Do what you will, I'll never heed to you."

"Just because you're some sea prince doesn't mean you have any authority here. You are my property now--you sold yourself over to me in exchange for the freedom of that filthy mutineer."

Hanzo's eyes widened in startlement, and he jerked himself back, the water stirring once more at his sudden burst of action; his spine hit the surface of the tub as a flabbergasted countenance drained the vibrance from his face. "How did you know-"

"I know that mark on your arm," Laurens began, placing a wooden chair in front of the merman and setting himself down on top of it. A squint of the eyes, and he neared forward to observe the intricate design that wrapped the entirety of the siren's left arm in much greater proximity. "Only merfolk of royal blood have it, and only they have the power to summon the powers of the oceans. It's not that hard to piece out. I'm not a simpleton. So how does it feel? Making gigantic waves, calling forth the darkest of storms whenever you please-"

"I'm not going to help you with any of your military affairs," Hanzo answered readily with a shadow over his face. "And for the record, we can't do these things whenever we please. I've only used my gifts on one occasion. It is a privilege that must be used wisely. Of course I don't expect you to know that, Preacher."

"Alright," Laurens challenged, sensing the challenge creeping back in Hanzo's voice. "So what do you have in mind? You're going to call to your sea god? You're going to call forth a wave so monstrous it will wipe England off the face of the map?"

"I'm not like you," Hanzo answered without a quiver that betrayed his inner turmoil. "I don't use my powers for my own benefit."

"Well you better find someone who's willing to save you," Laurens taunted as he threw his head back and draped one leg over his knee. "After I'm done with my agenda, I'll hand you over to the people of England as a final act of victory and they won't have a trickle of mercy on your soul."

"I don't expect them to. Let them do what they will."

"You're a strong one, huh?" the magistrate said. "Well I guess it's better that way. After all, it'll be a thrill seeing a merman crumble little by little. It'll be a thrill seeing your blood splattered on the stones of the town square."

With that, the man stood up, walked away, bent down, and reached for the discarded whip.


	18. Betrayal

At the end of it all, Hanzo was a battered mess: bloodied, bruised, and nearly leering into unconsciousness. He was panting harshly, trying so hard to not let the weakness on his person show, but every time he took the slightest intake of breath, there seemed to be multiple tiny needles that stabbed every organ in his insides. So with a trembling body and a ragged exhale, he leaned against what short walls there were around his confinement and gave in to the injuries that quickly ebbed his strength away.

"Angela!" Preacher called out behind his shoulder as he never wavered his stare from his afflicted captive. "Get over here."

From the narrow entrance, the screeching sound of creaking rusty hinges brought another level of discomfort onto Hanzo's person, judging from the merman's shut eyes clenching further towards the prominent bridge of his nose--most probably in an attempt to block the horrible sound off his system. There was a heavy thud, and dust flew forth before a tall, slender young European woman appeared with the least bit of amusement she was physically capable of plastered across her long, fair face.

"What is it now, Laurens?" she inquired without so much as batting an eyelid down her bright blue eyes. "You know my time is precious to me..."

She began trailing off as the words died down within her throat, and Preacher smiled smugly, his silvery eyes following where Angela had skated her gaze onto.

"Oh, Angela, meet Hanzo, Hanzo meet my lovely friend, Angela Ziegler. She's one of England's finest aspiring doctors."

"You asshole, what did you do to him?!" the blonde scolded her companion as soon as she registered that the languid being in front of her was bloodied all over, sitting in a lurid pool of what used to be clear water. Not wasting a second, the woman leapt forth and knelt beside Hanzo, the very sight of a fabled merperson failing to disable her strong altruistic spirit.

Intending to check on his vitals, she pressed two fingers against the spot under his jaw without asking permission to do so, as standard protocol would have it, and quickly found to her disgust that she had nearly pressed the length of one knuckle right into the slimy linings of one of his gills.

Hanzo gave a grunt of annoyance and hissed at the woman with the little strength he had left; tawny eyes that resembled those of an angry snake's bore into blue frightened ones through the thick curtain of frizzy, matted black hair. Angela fell on her bottom with a sharp gasp of surprise and a palm to her mouth.

"Oh my sweet Angela," Preacher chuckled as he circled the circumference of the wooden container Hanzo had been put in. "A fine lady shouldn't be so crass."

"He's dying dammit!" Ziegler nearly couldn't believe the audacity her supposed friend had within him to make light of this dire situation. "He can hardly support himself to sit upright."

"This is where you come in," Laurens replied simply, grabbing a stray, dusty handkerchief lying about, and after a good dusting, used it to wipe whatever blood hasn't dried yet off of the length of his black whip. "Keep him alive and well--until it's time to give him to the people, of course. Think about how much it would affect your medical credentials. Your peers would envy you!"

"You're a sick bastard." Angela fumed. "So that's your plan then? To parade him in front of thousands like an animal? Like some circus freak?"

"Isn't he already one though?" Preacher asked with an amused quirk of a brow over his shoulder.

"Unbelievable," Angela muttered lowly under her breath, only loud enough for Laurens to hear. "He's not a creature--he's a person just like me, just like you, just like everybody else."

"Except he has a tail."

"That's beyond the point," she spat with a roll of the eyes as she tried her hardest to gently press the siren against her side for further inspection. "I'm going to keep him alive not because you said so, but because it's what a decent human being would do."

"Whatever floats your ship, my dear," Preacher replied simply, not at all fazed with Angela's temperament. "Now if you'll excuse me," he paused to fix the collar of his white suit, "I have a party to attend. I'm going to be the guest of honor."

"Then you might want to wipe the blood off your suit," Angela pointed out with the contempt of the devil himself. "You wouldn't want any suspicions now, your honor."

"I'm flattered, thank you so much." Preacher smiled as the hard heels of his boot clicked and clacked against the smooth, grimy floors of the somber quarters. With one hand twisting the knob, he gave Angela one last order without so much as the regard of eye contact. "Oh, and if you could make him cry, that would be splendid. I've been trying to get it out of him but...it would seem as though my efforts were all in vain."

"Yes. I can see that." Angela opened her black carrier as best she could with one hand, and she figured to her dismay that she might have to leave the merman alone in order to acquire some clean water and a clean piece of cloth.

And a new change of clothes, Ziegler thought to herself as her blue orbs flicked down only to see the wet streaks of brown and crimson that smeared her tight beige dress. But before that...

"Hanzo, is it?" Angela began in the hopes of thinning the awkward atmosphere that swirled between her and the dying merman.

Way to go, Angela. This is totally what he needs right now.

"Why is he telling you to do all this?" Hanzo huffed through drooping eyelids that threatened to close forever. "Why order to heal me when all he's going to do is break me all over again. I'd...I'd rather have my life end now than endure another moment looking at his pale face. A-All that mattered for me was for him to stay off Jesse's trail, and after I die, I hope he'll stick by the bargain we've agreed upon."

"He has no choice but to do so. The judge and many others were witnesses to him promising."

"But will people really keep in mind the words of a merman? An enemy? No doubt they'd rather adhere to Preacher's side, as ridiculous and primping his words may seem."

Angela didn't say anything afterwards, finding truth in the siren's words.

"We need to disinfect those wounds of yours before anything else," she said instead and proceeded to stand up. "I'm going to get some clean water. Don't move around too much."

"I couldn't even if I tried," Hanzo snapped as he bent further forward towards the edge of his confinement.

"Right, of course." Angela bit her lip in regret. "Hang in there."

Fortunately for the merman, the woman headed back as quickly as she left, and sitting in her hands was a small basin of the promised water and a clean piece of white cloth.

"Let's get those wounds cleaned up," she chirped with an affable smile.

The siren only relaxed his ever-present scowl and nodded in response.

***

It took hours, but Angela was able to wipe her brow at last as she finally laid the sanguinary cloth over the brim of the basin for the final time that day. Each of the siren's injuries were properly tended to and it was safe to say that each were out of the danger of acquiring an infection.

During the course of the tedious treatment, Angela managed to gain some information concerning her patient, but most of what he was willing to divulge involved the pirate captain Jesse, and in the light of his side of the story, the woman's perceptions were thrown into a discord as she listened to his testimony: How funny, light-hearted, and kind this McCree was compared to the horrible pillaging pirate her folks would antagonize incessantly during the length of her late childhood years.

It fascinated her to say the least, the stories this merman told. But before she could inquire any further, the familiar shriek of the old hinges rang forth, and a heavy set of footsteps closed in that had the whetted vibrance of Angela's face washing down the drain like water.

"Why good evening, my sweet. Didn't expect you to stay up so late to keep our...guest company."

"Yes, good evening to you too, Laurens."

"Did you manage to make him cry?" the official inquired with a quirked brow.

"Why would I do that?" she spat back.

At the less-than-hospitable reply, Preacher's eyes wandered to the dejected wooden basket laying two feet away from the siren's confinement, and he clicked his tongue sharply to find that at the end of the day, it still remained empty.

Not one pearl.

"I figured that much," Preacher sighed. "Which was why I thought our little friend here could use some persuasion."

And there was a dull thud that suddenly landed before Hanzo.   
Looking down, the siren found a wide-brimmed, faded brown hat covered in thick splotches of what could only be dried blood.

But the sight of dark crimson wasn't the cause of a cold chill running down Hanzo's disfigured back, rather it was the very realization of having seen the weathered hat before that threatened to cut the supply of air from his stagnating lungs.

Jesse. This hat...it belongs to Jesse.

"No..." Hanzo shook his head in utter denial and snarled when Preacher took a step closer. "No. This is nothing but a fake, a ruse!"

"Funny you should mention that," Laurens cackled with a mocking shake of his head, swaying the little ponytail that hung low in front of his nape. "And I suppose anyone else would write their initials under the brim of their hat? The initials 'J.M.'?"

For emphasis, Laurens grabbed the hat by the mound that was its top and shot his arm forth to cup the hollow of the accessory over Hanzo's bruised face.

"Laurens!" Angela scolded sharply, ripping the man's arm away from the siren's vicinity.

"You have been with that criminal for some time, yes?" Preacher taunted, stumbling a few steps back but seemingly amazed by the unexpected power of the woman's fury. "You should know. Now take a good look at that, look me in the eye, and tell me that this doesn't belong to that damned pirate I just killed."

"No," Hanzo continued to utter, even as the wafting smell of the salty sea mixed with the familiar musk of the man and tobacco odor hit him like wave. "You agreed...you agreed-"

"Hanzo." Angela tried to calm the siren down with cautious, open palms.

"You agreed; y-you gave me your word. You said you wouldn't kill him--in front of all your people!" Hanzo was baring his sharp teeth and his knuckles were turning white at how hard he was gripping the thick brims of his confinement.

"Hanzo-"

"You murderer! You liar--YOU MURDERED JESSE!"

One second was all it took; a spike of strength amidst his sore, broken body, and the siren leapt from his confinement with a thunderous burst of his tail pushing against the bottom of his wooden prison. He dove into the air with the grace of a sleek, surfacing dolphin, but his hands were curled into menacing sharp claws, and they readied themselves to accommodate the width of Preacher's thick neck. He tackled the man with the advantage of his weight and they both fell unto the floor with Preacher being on the losing end of it all.

All Angela could do was let off a horrified gasp at the violent scene quickly escalating in front of her.

"I'm going to kill you!" Hanzo screamed, red-faced and on the brink of tears as he thrashed his glistening blue tail around to keep the official from gaining his balance and standing back up on his feet. "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

"Ghh-nggh, gah-"

With every attempt Laurens made to speak, more gurgling sounds erupted and bubbled from his throat; the more he tried to speak, the more Hanzo pushed his thumbs into the hollow of Laurens' neck, right above his collarbone. The merman's nails were so sharp, just a little bit more of pressure would guarantee a steady flow if not a trickle of blood.

"Hanzo, stop!" Angela was gripping at the siren's moist, wet shoulders, and she could only watch in horror as her fingernails were slipping off his wet skin along with her hopes of stopping the fight before anyone--by that she meant Preacher--could get badly hurt or mauled or beheaded.

Beheaded?

Whatever, it's still a possibility.

"You monster! How could you go back on your word-"

"Hanzo!"

"-we had a deal!"

Lauren's eyes rolled up to the back of his skull, and Angela was at her wit's end with trying to figure out how to match the robust strength this creature was exerting. Every second was precious, and the woman feared the worst every time.

"You killed Jesse, you killed him!"

Preacher said nothing--not that he could--but instead he let go of one hand to reach up for something just a few ways above his head, something that must have flown from him during the sudden assault.

When he finally had the steely handle in his hands, Preacher gawked audibly to draw a deep breath in, and his busy hand moved like a sneaky mouse to occupy whatever space there was between him and the merman, and without a moment's hesitation, he pulled a finger back and let the faint smell of gunpowder heighten his dulling senses.

A thunderous report, and Hanzo was staring blankly at the face of his captor with a gaping mouth. Realizing what had happened, Angela gave a scream and ran towards the two of them, not knowing who to check on first.

However the doubt evaporated the very moment she cast her gaze upon the gushing red circle that marked the merman's lower rib. Like a sack of potatoes, Hanzo limply fell onto his side as he clutched the wide patch of sticky skin as one would his last bag of coins. Ziegler was the first to break free from the shock while Preacher still sat there, his gun still sitting inside his trembling hand whilst he looked at the streaks of red cascading down his ivory suit.

"Hanzo!" the woman called out frantically. "Laurens what the hell?!"

"I-I was just defending myself!" the man reasoned out with a crazed gleam in his blue eyes. "You saw how he attacked me!"

"Frankly I would too if you pulled a stunt like that on me. You're something else, you bastard." Angela shook her head, tousling the blonde strands of her once kempt hair as she turned her focus back on the heaving merman writhing silently beneath her. "Now my priority is to keep him alive, and you're going to help me do so," she ordered sharply. "Or so help me-"

"Alright, fine, I'll help." Laurens acquiesed, backing away slightly. "Just don't break my nose again."

"For what you did to him, I want to more than anything," Angela admitted. "But he's in need right now. So you can thank divine intervention for getting your ass out of this one."  
There was a soft groan from the paling merman below, and Angela ripped Preacher's white suit off of his broad shoulders without permission for use as an improvised clogger of sorts for the steady streaming bullet wound.

When the red only seeped through the thick fabric like it was nothing, Angela knew that this would take an incredible feat of medicine to accomplish properly. It would take a miracle to bring Hanzo out of this hellhole alive and well.

But like Preacher said, she was an aspiring doctor.

And doctors save lives.

It was as plain as day what she had to do.

"Laurens. Hand me my carrier. We have a merman to save."


	19. Tied Down

"Jesse..."

"Hanzo, you need to conserve your energy. You're very weak and still in critical condition."

"Angela...he's dead. Jesse's dead..."

"I'm so sorry. I know it's unfortunate, but there's nothing we can do about it. We have to accept what happened, and what's more important now is your wound. We have to thoroughly clean it to kill off any potential infections."

"How do you expect me to forget him so easily? Have you not listened to a word I said? To the stories I just shared?" He dared to open an eye despite his stupor. "Do you know what it feels like to lose someone without saying goodbye? To lose them because of your own doing?"

Angela pursed her lips together as she paused in her task. "As a doctor in training, I'm exposed to situations like this all the time, watching people lament over a bereft loved one. And yet, despite all the countless partings I have to be a part of, I seem to be at ease. I don't feel grief pulling me to tears. But maybe that's just because I try so hard to keep things professional; maybe I just got so used with moving on as quickly as possible that I overlook the magnitude of the little things.

"I did listen, Hanzo, and I sympathize with you. But Jesse's gone. There's no use for blame."

After that, Hanzo said absolutely nothing. Not even a small squeak nor an audible intake of breath to signify his presence; Angela would have forgotten he was there with her had she not had her hands meticulously working themselves up the merman's lower ribs, the spot where the bullet had pierced into the skin.

Fortunately for the doctor, the bullet didn't go that far into the siren's body that it would have posed any fatal threats to the internal organs. Though the anatomy was undeniably new territory on Angela's part, she figured that at least half of his body would follow the laws of human anatomy. It didn't take a genius to realize that a siren was partly human, or that firing a bullet straight into any living organism was bound to give them serious damage.

"You've been holding that for a long time now," Angela mused quietly, finally gaining the confidence to look into the shallow depths of her patient's amber orbs, staring intently at the faded object pressed right onto his chest: the wide brimmed brown hat soiled with dried blood.

"It's all I have left of him," Hanzo muttered without a speck of vibrance adding cheer to his deep voice. "I thought he'd leave Jesse alone, he gave me his word-"

"Hanzo-"

"-we had a deal...!"

The siren let off a loud hiss at the sudden stabbing sensation that struck him from the waist down. He could feel the beating of his heart all throughout every limb, and he could hear the roaring blood gushing into his head. He had thoughtlessly moved around in his agitation, and the pronounced movements triggered the healing wound that rested under the thick layers of bandages and clean cloth.

"Take it easy," the woman said gently, placing her smaller hands carefully upon Hanzo's scaly shoulder to help steady him to the position he was in before. "You shouldn't move a lot."

"I thought I could save Jesse." Hanzo was persistent with his vehement grieving and his muscles became taut under Angela's gentle push. "I was foolish enough to trust a human such as your friend. And because of my own foolishness-" he clutched the hat tighter under his hand. "Jesse is gone."

Hot tears of raw anger sprouted like crystal beads on the corners of Hanzo's eyes, and they fell in thick droplets down the sides of his angular visage. His once limp hands tightened into fists and they shook with such an overwhelming abhorration, Angela had to try and still him down into tranquility to make sure he wouldn't faint because of over exertion.

She pleaded with him, more than countless times she begged for him to think things through and take deep breaths, and just as many times, Hanzo turned a deaf ear to her behests. The darkness that swamped his heart consumed him the moment he realized that the loud gunshot wasn't an illusion conjured by his dreams, that the bloody hat shoved onto his face was nothing short of a physical material that he could touch and smell and see; that this very hat belonged to someone who used to be alive, who he used to admire.

Love even.

The darkness gnawed at him from the inside out until it completely robbed the light of hope away from his face.

Click! Clack!

The sharp yet faint sounds of falling marbles--or so they seemed to be--made their way into the woman's ears that she paused in her tracks to view the space around her, trying to discern exactly where the source of the weird resonance was coming from.

When she set her eyes down upon the bottom of the siren's wooden compartment, Angela caught glimpses of cream-colored dots that littered the brown surface.

"What the...?" the woman leaned down a little to level herself as much as she was able with the still water. The sudden unannounced intrusion into the merman's personal space earned her a grunt of displeasure from Hanzo, and as she moved closer, he'd make sure not a thread of the hat touched an inch of the woman.

At one point Angela let the entirety of her forearm slip into the water, wetting a quarter length of her long sleeves. She pinched her thumb and index fingers together to accommodate the small white blurs in the clear liquid, and pulling her hand back out, she saw a small lustrous sphere reflecting her visage in a fish eye's perspective.

"A pearl?" she hummed to herself, bringing the object to the spot where the light streamed in the brightest through the upper windows on the low walls. "Where could this have come from?"

The door opened from the narrow entrance, and Hanzo squinted his eyes whilst his gills fanned out from the sides of his face.

"Dr. Ziegler." It didn't sound like it belonged to Preacher.

"Ja-, I mean, Admiral Morrison," Angela stuttered once she saw the blue coat and blond hair approaching from the sharp corner. She stood up without a second's delay and fiddled with her dainty fingers as she glanced here and there, making sure Hanzo didn't do the same assassination attempt he had done that nearly took Laurens. "What brings you here?"

"The magistrate sent me," the man replied tersely, warily eyeing the merman who looked him up and down with such animosity. It was the only emotion that added personality in the vapid room, and frankly, Jack felt more at ease with this situation than if Hanzo had settled for being nonchalant.

"Well, what did he want?" the doctor inquired.

"He wants me to check on the merman's progress."

"He's fine. I already took care of most of his wounds."

"Is he crying?"

"What?" Angela snapped as she took a clipped step forward. "Why is he so intent on making the siren shed tears?"

"I don't know." Morrison backed away from the woman. "All the magistrate really said was notify him immediately if the prisoner started to cry."

"That bastard," she muttered under her breath. Then she turned to glower at her blue companion, "Well tell him that the merman is in great misery, or is that not good enough for him?"

"Look, not even I know why he'd want the merman to cry," Jack said, trying to shift the woman's anger away from him. "But when he was giving me instructions, he sounded so adamant with this particular request that I couldn't possibly bring myself to question him."

"Well, you should have, Jack-"

"Hold on," the man interrupted her, much to the doctor's indignity. "Do you hear that?"

There was the weird sound again, mimicking the pitter patter of droplets falling into still water. Easily eyeing over Angela's shoulder, the admiral caught a glimpse of the sitting merman, graying all over with streaks of wetness trailing down the contours of his sharp, blank face.

"Look!" Jack whisper yelled, pointing a black gloved finger towards Hanzo's direction.

Watching as accurately as she perceived his fingertip, the doctor saw the glimmer of a cascading tear gather just near the underside of the creature's left jaw, then within seconds, gravity pulled the gathering tear away from his skin, and it fell down like a stone, and the once clear surface bloomed with an explosion of a milky white from the center.

And a resounding plop rang through the room.

It was only for a moment but Angela was certain of what she had just seen.

His tears have turned to pearls.

Realizing the hardness against her fair skin, Angela raised the pearl she had retrieved at eye level and inspected its surface all over with a higher degree of curiosity.

"It all makes sense now," she muttered, engrossed by the luster of the pearl. "Now I know why Laurens was so resolute on making Hanzo cry." She quickly turned to Morrison with a pale face as a dreadful realization dawned upon her. "Don't tell the magistrate about this."

"I have orders to report so," Jack replied sternly, straightening his spine. "I'm sorry, but I would be blatantly lying to the face of my superior if I keep this between us."

"I'll punch you in the face."

"You'll regret trying, ma'am."

"Please!" Angela raised her voice; half pleading, half scolding. Then, she continued with a whisper, "If Laurens finds out that Hanzo has started crying, the siren will only have a handful of days left to live until Laurens decides to give him to the mercy of England."

"Why would that be?"

"Don't you see?" Angela asked incredulously, a flurry of arm movements suggesting her unrest. "He'll basically milk those tears out of Hanzo, and once he can't cry anymore, once Laurens has no more agendas concerning him, this merman's life is as good as over."

A glow of what could only be perceived by the doctor as understanding shone throughout the admiral's face, and the doctor had hope. But the glow seemingly subsided, blocked by a shadow that came with the furrow of pale brows.

"Please, Jack." Angela fought on as she clasped her hands together and bounced on her heels. "Please don't tell him."

"And what do you think will happen, Dr. Ziegler?" Morrison challenged undauntedly. "Do you really expect the magistrate to just let him go if he can't cry? His fate was already set the moment he stepped foot on these lands, and he has no way out of this one. I'm sorry, doc. But I'm going to have to do as I was ordered."

The man turned to leave, but the doctor's hand shot forth the moment her sharp blue eyes caught a whiff of Morrison pivoting on the hard heels of his boots. With gritted teeth, the woman seethed at him, "I've kept my promise when you begged for me to keep quiet about that merman I once saved. I agreed with you anyway even when I knew that it would cost me the short road to reaching the top of my career. I sacrificed the information that would have given me a title throughout the field of medicine--and you can't bring yourself to do the same for me even when you have nothing to lose?"

"I'll lose my credibility, and then my position, and then my fleet" Jack answered. "I am accountable for this merman, Angela, and I won't have you ruin my life's work for some siren that decided to take a mutineer's place. I'm sorry. I have to report this."

Standing on the spot, Angela dazed for a moment as it came to her how she had the shorter end of the stick. She swerved her head to look at Hanzo, and she saw that the merman had never looked more sick than he did then. He barely budged in the water wherein he sat, and whatever limited movements he could do were put to rest as he settled on clutching the hat to his chest, still as a stone statue.

"I'm sorry, Hanzo. I wish I could have saved you as I did that merman the fishermen brought back from the sea. He was speared, dying...but when he opened his eyes. He had hope."

Not a minute after delving into her thoughts, the entrance broke apart with a heart-wrenching report that the woman momentarily forgot how to breathe. After the forceful splitting of thick wood in a hurried frenzy, gruff grunts and various orders were thrown here and there, and more of the blue coated soldiers ran in with thick rope secured tightly in their hard fists.

"Hurry! Before it attacks."

It slipped over their heads how reduced to a state of patheticness Hanzo was, how the siren nearly didn't pay them any heed upon their arrival. Nevertheless, the fear that controlled their actions like puppets on strings was irrefutable, and Angela rushed over to make certain that none of the men act upon it to the point of violence.

Because, after all, fear is a powerful thing.

"Not too tight!" Angela cried out once she saw the fibers of the rope digging into the pale flesh of the siren's wrists. "There needs to be a steady flow of blood!"

"She's right men," Preacher's familiar voice rang from behind her, and she glared. "We have to keep him alive til it's time to give him to the people of England."

"You..." Angela shook her raised head in sheer dismay.

"Yes, I, the magistrate, John Laurens Preacher, shall deliver to the people their little hearts' desire: justice for the death of their kin."

"You just want the pearls to further establish your wealth," the woman shot back, seeing through the playfulness in his words.

"And my fame and glory," Preacher added in with a cheek smile. "We can't forget those." He wrapped a sleeved arm around the doctor's smaller shoulders, only to be pushed aside, a blatant portrayal of disgust.

"Don't worry, my dear," Preacher said, unfazed by the iron hot hostility his so called friend directed towards him. "In a short span of time, his wretched existence shall come to an end, and he'll no longer hurt the way he is now. Doesn't that sound lovely?"

However, Angela didn't find the little spiel amusing in the slightest. So in a flurry, she reached for her coat and carrier with every intention of leaving as soon as possible before the restraints that held her back break, and she ends up landing a deserving fist on the man's face.

Oh, if only she could.


	20. A Ring in the Air

Three days after he had been subdued by the forces of the magistrate, Hanzo found that the towering grief in his heart had waned, and his tired bloodshot eyes had ceased their steady flow of tears. In the end the siren was robbed of all strength, and he sat there limply, with only the borders of his confines keeping him sitting upright. Below his ashen face was the woven basket Preacher had brought in some time ago, a vessel to collect the pearls that would form from the merman's tears.

And at the moment the once empty hollow was filled to the brim with dozens and dozens of the precious pearls, each having its own luster and size. Some lacked that perfect white glow, while others could put a clean elephant ivory to shame. Some came in smaller spheres, bigger spheres, while others were baffling to look at with their uneven, asymmetrical shapes.

But to the magistrate the differences were trivial, and they all screamed one common denotement: money.

Money that he'd use to further expand his wealth, to better his already principled reputation.

Is that not how one wins in life? To have more than all the others? To be able to do as one pleases without having to trouble himself with the woes of tomorrow?

However for the siren, winning would have meant being able to peacefully at night, with the lingering knowledge that Jesse was safe, sailing the blanket of rigorous ocean waves and starting over with his mates in the warmer coasts the pirate used to voyage to a long time back in their years of excursions and lucrative crimes. It was a paradise away from Preacher, away from the noose, away from England if the gods permit it possible.

Away from any misfortune.

Oh, Hanzo could picture it clearly, even as his languid being nearly refused to keep him upright, let alone provide the strength to keep his eyes open.

He pictured Jesse, standing on The Huckleberry's bow, just behind the golden figurehead, with the salty wind blowing his hair back, drying the sweat on his face. But his face--it had the glow brought upon by a smile, a genuine smile that spoke for the usually jolly soul that McCree carried everywhere with him--even in the middle of a gun battle.

It was one of the attributes that led Hanzo to fall for the man; it was one of Jesse's more lovable traits after all.

And one of the very things the siren so gravely missed from the captain.

With his hands rendered useless behind his back, all the merman could do was eye the dejected bloody hat that fell outside his confinement in the flurry of the subjugation that happened once Morrison set off the word that the captive had finally shed tears.  
So for quite a while, it had remained there on the exact same spot, and dust has started to settle down on the leather surface like fine, little gray flakes of pepper and salt.

In a few moments Hanzo knew his fate would be sealed, and once certain that the last of his tears have slipped down to become the precious mineral, the merman began to tick the time away in his head, counting down to when Preacher would finally come in through the narrow entrance to check on him like he always did.

Five minutes was still yet to strike zero when Laurens barged in through the door with a couple of soldiers standing on either side of him, faces as blank as a stone statue.

"I take to it that this is all you've got to offer me?" the magistrate sneered lightly, pacing about to bring the sharp clicks of his heels to combat the quiescent ambience of the small room. With a jerk of the chin, the two accompanying soldiers hopped in to take the heavy basket away with immense care and steady steely gazes; it was clear that it has slipped their minds that the merman was still bound and will do them as much harm as an old sack of feathers.

Nevertheless they kept their guards up, and they tried to shrug off the shaking of their knees with a facade that was just as stern.

"What do we do now, Master Preacher?" asked one of them, his lips the only thing to seemingly move out of everything else on his visage.

"Take them to the carriage out back and wait for me," he ordered, taking three steps to near his helpless captive. "I have a few more things to finish with our...friend. Isn't that right, Hanzo?"

The soldiers lifted an arm to salute the magistrate before they combined their forces together to lift the heavy wickerwork off the ground. The weight of it was a feat in itself, but the chore just became all the more cumbersome once they remembered that none of the pearls should roll out and drop from their container; it didn't help at all that the heaps nearly evened the brim.

But once the two soldiers were out of sight--after an agonizing drag of time--Laurens shifted his gaze towards the siren once more, and he bent from the waist to level himself with Hanzo's bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry about these-" he said, pausing to run the pad of his thumb down a jutting scar on Hanzo's shoulder. "I never meant to be so harsh with the whip. I guess I just get a little bloodlust is all."

"Y-You really are a sadistic bastard," the merman huffed lowly, snapping his body to the side to deliver his resentment towards the magistrate's invasive touch.

"Ah yes," Laurens cackled, standing back to his full height. "I remembered the pirate saying such words about me. I jabbed the gun against his head...but the thing is, I only pressed on the trigger some few days ago. Weird, isn't it?"

"You monster-"

"Come on now, don't be so hung up over Jesse's death. I was doing the world a favor, and you'll get your chance soon."

"If you're going to kill me, go ahead and shoot me now!"

"Have some patience, creature. Tomorrow you'll share the same fate as the mutineer," Preacher replied, unfazed. "Only, your death might not be as quick and painless as Jesse's. So if I were you--I'd start praying for my soul while I still can."

***

Time passed by like a quick flick of the wrist, and it was finally the day after.

Angry, eager townsfolk huddled by like a dense flock of penguins around a wide makeshift pool that the magistrate's men have put together two weeks prior this momentous occasion. When Hanzo saw it for the first time through the sea of flailing, clamoring people, he perceived in his torpor that the vessel was an exact replica of his old confinement Preacher first put him in, only this time there was actually ample space for him to move around.

But what good would that be if all the strength has long ebbed his body? His soul?

He would just limply sit there, he supposed; rest under the scrutiny of the bloodthirsty townsfolk who undoubtedly were at the edge of their seats for when the magistrate will officially set off word--one that would signal the start of their long awaited justice--for finally, they'll be able to avenge their fallen kin: father, mother, brother, sister, children, dear friend, all those who suffered painful deaths at the hands of Hanzo's kin.

Well they just happened to have decided to be as unforgiving.

"Kill the beast!" they all chanted at the top of their lungs, with their fists and pitch forks raised high in the air. "Kill the creature!"

They crowded in as much as they could against the borders of the wooden pool, with some nearly going over the edge and into the shallow water in an angry and desperate attempt of coming in close with the siren. They paid no heed to the soldiers' warnings of keeping distance and resorted to grabbing whatever object their hands could get a hold of and hurling it towards the merman. Preacher's decree hasn't even been made valid, and yet Hanzo had a trail of blood running from a gash on his temple and several bruises littering the thick skin of his arm--all from trying to protect what was left of his being from the violent assault the people imparted upon their ire.

"Let me at it!" one man yelled hoarsely, swinging a makeshift club in one hand and supporting himself with the other as he too attempted to cross the three foot barrier as his companions were doing. With finite patience, soldiers began to set the riled people back on their original places as the magistrate simply watched from a high pedestal nearby.

"Settle down now, my children," Laurens enjoined, exuding his usual air of notable splendor to hush the bellowing majority. "You'll have what you desire soon."

"We want it now!" one villager yelled, to which the others quickly acceded with more shouting.

"How long would we have to wait?"

"The lives those creatures stole must be avenged immediately."

"We can't afford to wait any longer!"

"I get your troubles, humble citizens of England," the official continued, feigning concern. "But let me be the first to say that I, John Laurens Preacher, magistrate under the king, have brought to all of you an inkling to justice of over centuries of terror and merciless deaths. I vow that the seas shall be rid of these creatures, and I share in the dream of the people--a dream that one day all the ships that sail out into the ocean return back here to where they belong, and they'll sail without the dangers of a siren's song. There shall be no more fear, and after this merman, we shall vanquish all of their kind and proclaim victory to this proud land. We'll do more than just bring England to glory--we will make history!"

"To the magistrate!" The people applauded. "To the magistrate!"

Laurens took a moment to revel in the éclat of his genius and nodded at the faces that adored him.

Let them see that you know them. Let them see that you're one of them and they'll be following you like a dog on a leash.

Bringing a hand to his hip, the man closed his gloved fingers around the sturdy handle of his whip and raised the same hand for all to see the object.

"I now pass justice into your hands," he declared at the top of his voice. "Now for the moment you've all been waiting for."

He gestured an open palm to Hanzo's direction and the soldiers immediately left their stations at the sides of the confinement, giving way for the townsfolk to flood in and act on the raging voices that goaded them on to do 'what must be done' onto the merman.

As for Hanzo, he simply sat on the spot where the soldiers have set him upon, and with a deep breath, he closed his eyes and readied his soul to accept his brutal fate.

He could hear it, feel it in the ground: the intensity growing vigorous with each passing moment. It would only be mere seconds before the weapons pierce his skin, or the fists and kicks bruise his being beyond recognition. But it will all be over...everything has an end.

I miss you, Jesse.

Even in his darkest moment, the pirate's name was all that he could utter. Memories of their short but fulfilling adventures were all that Hanzo could pay heed to--all that he cared about. Somewhere in the secret recesses of his heart, he yearned for nothing more but the smell of tobacco, McCree's cluttered room that he was forced to stay in, and the small but familiar glass confinement he was so disgusted of awhile back on a daily basis.

When he had the second to think about it, the siren has also come to realize how he missed the jolly spirits that lifted The Huckleberry, and how the singing of the shanties calmed his turmoils some two to three instances.

"Let's go get him!"

"Let's do this!"

The voices drew near, and the shadow of a hundred men clouded in on him.

"I'll give him a piece of my mind!"

Here it comes.

"This is for my brother!"

Almost there...

"We'll kill all of your kind after we're done with you. How do you feel about tha-!"

A tremor in the ground, followed by a quick, deafening crack forced Hanzo's eyes to snap open, and he looked around him only to find the people doing the same thing he was.

"Where did that explosion come from?" one of them exclaimed. His genuine concern shifted everybody else's attention away from Hanzo, and the eyes that were once filled with abhorrence morphed into that of confusion and fear.

Just when they were ready to dismiss it as merely a figment of their imagination, another sound came, except this one was sharper and quicker. This one was closer.

It sounded like...a firing gun.

Preacher staggered about on his pedestal, darting his eyes here and there to try and find the source of the sound in the hopes of saving himself from what seemed at the moment as an assassination attempt.

"Who's firing that gun?!" Laurens asked through gritted teeth, eyes wide as he gripped his kempt hair. "Show yourself! H-how dare you cause a ruckus here in my territory?!"

Gathering as much air as he could, the magistrate readied to fire profanities at the unknown assailant when a vibrant blur of black moved about not so far beside him.

"You..." was the only thing that Preacher could say as the figure neared a little, taking his own sweet time as if to make certain that not a speck of city dust would ruin the natural shine of his leather boots.

"You reckon your ass it's me." The other clicked his tongue. "Now gimme my hat."

"How dare you come back to my city?" Laurens screeched, deftly reaching for the revolver tucked away in its pristine holster. "I should have you killed for this-!"

However, Laurens never had the chance to even straighten his arm and get into position, for the unknown enemy had already pulled on the trigger not once, but thrice.

The people could only watch as three spots of crimson bloomed on the once crisp ivory coat that wrapped the magistrate with esteem and pride. No one could have ever foretold that such a tragedy would turn out this way, but once Laurens' body succumbed to the wounds and fell a few ways from the top of the pedestal, the townsfolk were just beginning to wrap their head around the assault and started whispering to each other, while a good number ran away on shaking legs.

"Isn't that the pirate captain?"

"Captain McCree, isn't it?"

"I thought they got rid of him."

The murmurs pressed on, and in response, the person of interest only brought himself further out to take a good look at the mess he made. Eyeing the expanse of the dense throng, the man noticed all the faces painted with either shock, fear, disbelief, or all three, and he threw his head back, letting off a deep laugh that rumbled throughout his chest and caught the onlookers by surprise.

"Come on, don't look at me like that: I was doin' the guy a favor. With all the screamin' he's doin', he was bound to die of a heart attack- ulcers even." He laughed, nudging Preacher's prostrate body with the tip of his boot. He then turned back to the onlookers, the playful glint in his eyes snuffed out like a flame. "Now I suggest y'all scram, unless ya wanna have some lead in them brains of yours." Raising the gun over his head, he fired three more rounds, and it was enough to send most of the people fleeing like a herd of nervous cows that didn't know any better.

Of course, the soldiers remained, rifles locked and loaded. This much Jesse figured out from the start, but all the captain answered in response to the threat was a lopsided grin, and he only watched as the barrels began to move behind the line of soldiers and exploded like a bomb, revealing members of The Huckleberry as they wasted no time taking down the whole defense.

The crew members have done their job of clearing the path to the merman; all that Jesse has to do was go over to the makeshift pool, get Hanzo, and bolt for the ship, waiting in a dock nearby.

The timeframe was short, and needless to say, they couldn't afford any room for any sort of error.  
.uu.  
"Darlin!" Jesse yelled out, voice cracking from the mix of raw emotions that threatened to suffocate him until he turned blue. "Oh darlin, what have they done to you?"

"Jesse...?" the siren blinked, wondering if all the battering on his body has finally taken a toll on his head and was giving him hallucinations. This was just cruel.

"Don't worry, it's gon be okay. I'm here now."

"J-Jesse!" Hanzo whispered, mustering the last of his strength to raise himself up and wrap his arms around the man's torso. Whether he was an illusion or not, it hardly mattered to the siren. "You're here...you're actually here."

"'Course it is." McCree smiled wide as he returned the favor with a much tighter hug. It brought all sorts of pain on the merman's person, but it was a feeling he'd never trade for all the comfort in the world. "Oh, Han...it's been real lonely without ya. I should have come sooner. I'm so sorry."

"I thought he killed you," Hanzo said as he tried his hardest to keep the tears of joy in check. "I-I can't believe you're here with me."

"Believe it, darlin'. We'll be together forever," Jesse replied as he plunged two hairy arms into the water. "I'm gettin ya outta here. Hold on."

"You're so stupid, coming here just for me," the siren spat, but his face glowed with a smile.

"I'd be more stupid not to."

Hanzo's grin widened, and he held on as much as his strength allowed him to, and he parted his mouth, ready to say something, when a white hot sensation tore through his shoulder blades and exploded numbing pain all over his bruised body.

"Hanzo!" Jesse yelled out above him. "Hanzo!"

The merman didn't even know what had happened: all he registered was the sound of a loud report, and then the feel of shock rippling throughout his whole body.

His vision edged with black, and the darkness closed in until he could barely see any speck of light. He felt his body sag into sturdy arms, and what used to be the pirate's deafening screams calmed down into mere whispers.

"Hanzo!"

"Captain! Captain we have to go!"

A new set of voices were heard in the air.

"No--Hanzo's shot!"

"The soldiers are coming, Cap'n!"

"We have to leave him. He can't make it."

"I ain't leavin'!'

"Duncan, take him."

There were muddled voices, angry voices that argued incoherently over the other side. But moments later they dwindled down, and Hanzo was swimming in a blanket of pure untinted black. He wondered where the angry voices fled off to, but it was proving hard to think--very much so when all this tranquility was taking over his head, his being.

Everything was peaceful.

Even the soft voice that followed; a true light in the darkness.

 

 

"Don't worry. I'm going to heal you."


	21. From the Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos guys! 
> 
> anyhow, the whole thing's on Jesse's POV
> 
> Enjoy!

The next thing I knew when I opened my eyes was that I was back on my ship--or more specifically, my old cabin. The Huckleberry was speedin' away from the shores of England when I regained my bearings, and I never had a doubt that we'd be caught. This was a fast ship--faster than what Morrison's used to ridin' on.

Or maybe I was just bein' my biased self again.

I shrugged off the thought and stood up despite my stingin' legs screamin' for more respite. My injured arm still hurt like a bitch, and I hope the medics knew well what they were on about when they bandaged the limb down to my fingertips.   
I didn't want the blood flow to be cut off there and risk its chances of gettin' better. I hate losin' anythin' that could have been saved.

Like Hanzo.

I had him there...in my fucking arms. I had him!

He was smilin' at me cause he knew I saved him, and he knew he was gettin' out of there alive. I promised him a life together filled with us, with new beginnings, away from this blasted land that wanted both our heads.

Then out of the blue, a maniac came up from the back of the still scatterin' throngs and shot Hanzo; no doubt in his quest to fulfill the declaration Preacher promised that never really made itself valid. He wanted to claim what was rightfully his, I suppose. But that didn't stop me from fishin' my gun from its holster and alignin' the barrel right on his sorry head.

I fired once. Missed.

Another round--he only scrambled on his feet and got further away.

I was fully ready to chase after that son of a bitch when my crew grabbed on and told me of the incomin' soldiers that have heard of the ruckus. I remembered snappin' back at them as I insisted that I don't give a rat's ass about the king's men: the anger that pulsed in my head was the only thing that I could really register, havin' taken a full hold over my senses.

I myself didn't catch on fast enough that I was already bein' dragged back on my waitin' ship, my Huckleberry, by two of my mates. Duncan and Thomas haled my heavy person with considerable effort, and yet I felt like I was more of a hollow shell than anythin', an empty vessel robbed of everythin' that mattered to me.

This mission was supposed to go accordin' to how we briefed it over at the cabin; hell it should have went the way my previous more unplanned despoilments ended up to be: successful and flawless. We'd get what we've wanted and all that had to be worried about was gettin' away in one piece...or at the most, with a limb or two gone.

Sure, I escaped unscathed...not even a scratch on my dark skin to testify my intrusion on the land I was basically exiled from. The land that sentenced me to death. The land that would have danced around my corpse had Hanzo not interfered and offered himself up.

And yet who could have foretold that his very sacrifice would've just ended in vain?

A wasted life--makes me sick.

I gritted my teeth in suppressed anger every time a picture of Hanzo's scarred and bruised person flashed before my mind's eye. That alone would have prompted me to come up to Preacher and fire a gun against his stupid perfect head. But with him basically six feet under, the next best person would be me.

I had no excuse for the failure of my most important mission yet. Not seein' the odds absolved me of nothin', and the guilt was like a boulder in my gut.

My eyes wandered to the flickerin' orange light that danced over the wax candle atop my table. Even in my stupor, I could think of a few ways to make that flame much more useful than just seein'. So with my good hand, I rummaged my drawers for a thick stick of tobacco and burned one end on the small fire.

I kept doin' this until one could clearly see the thick gray smoke swirlin' about in this cramped room. Anyone who entered would have had their senses infiltrated like the plague, which was for the better I guess. I preferred the company of my own self at the moment, and if I were honest, I think it would help me cope better. I didn't wanna hear none of those sympathies and pity--they didn't live through our private stories to know much about us. Hell...I didn't even know what was right anymore.

I didn't know what I should be feelin' then.

I knew the crew meant well but...it's complicated.

All I could think of doin' was stare off into the foggy nothingness of my quarters, inhalin' even more smoke than what I was used to drawin' in. I let the foreign feeling of defeat take over me, and I was pretty much okay like this: just me, myself, and my fourth roll of tobacco.

Or was it the twenty fifth?

It wasn't long before thoughts of settlin' for good on land crept its way into my head. I didn't wanna see any more of the ragin' sea, or the maps, or the gold. I never really had the chance to take it slow, with my every wakin' moment a new chapter to a life of danger and survival.

So with half of a mind and a whole lot of gut feelin', I ordered the crew to berth this ship on the nearest island they laid their eyes on and wait for further instructions.

Fortunately, I was spared the questionin', and once we've arrived at our destination, a tiny gulf that braved the slammin' waves near a major city, I decided it was finally time to give my crew the closure they were clearly itchin' to get a hold of.

And just like that, I announced my unforeseen retirement and passed on the possession of my beloved ship to the rest of the crew. I figured they'll go along the lines of democracy and elect an eligible pirate to take my place and live my legacy, takin' my mates to see the glories and victories I should have shown them.

It was a dream of mine at one point, but right then...I had a change of heart.

I couldn't see myself bein' the same pirate captain I once was.   
It was a bittersweet moment, seein' this shadow of betrayal and shock flash across their dirty faces. Especially Thomas--he looked like he was gonna cry!

Duncan didn't utter as much as a squeak and I didn't press him for any goodbye-farewell formalities. Him tryin' to understand I was all the support I needed. Followin' his example, the others only grumbled under their breath, took their hats off, or said a few words of luck with forced, cheeky smile.

"Will you really be okay here?" Seb asked me out of the blue once nearly everybody made their way back up to the deck.

"I'll be fine, old timer." I nodded, chucklin' in the hopes of easin' his concerns.

"Well...we'll be back in a week or so--just in case you change your mind and all." He placed a few good slaps down on my shoulder and turned his back on me like everybody else.

"Thanks...I appreciate it."

I thought I was alone, but once I pivoted on my heel after a good while, I was face to face with the last person I expected to be standin' before me.

"Duncan?" I asked. "W-What are you still doin' here? The rest of them's all ready to sail out."

In response, the guy only placed his hands on his belt and fumbled with the shiny buckle until the leather loop loosened its hold around his waist. The accessory dropped with a clank on the sandy surface of the shore, and it only dawned on me that the holster of his gun joined it as it fell.

Like a brother he was to me, Duncan stated that he'll have my back, and that he'll stay to "keep my sorry ass from gettin' into trouble". I told him that he didn't have to do this. He told me that I was welcome to try and stop him.

Seein' this, the crew one by one descended from the deck and followed Duncan's decision of staying on land for good. I didn't want to hold them back from the piratin' and the gold and the glory. Have I been so awesome that these people didn't know how to be efficient criminals without me?

But to tell y'all honestly, I felt...touched. I mean, I knew they stuck by me because I got them the goods in life--to the point that they were practically swimmin' in gold and diamonds! I thought they were gon leave in a flash once they found someone better, but here they were--willin' to stay by my side despite this new low I've been put into.

I couldn't have asked for a better crew.

As the moments passed, their mouths moved as much as their feet hiked these stony, hilly terrains. They were laughin' like the merry men they were, and soon, plans of workin' as merchants and turnin' The Huckleberry into the house that we would all live in sprouted amongst them like daisies.

Pretty quickly, the hills steeped to bulwark a valley, and we had a bird's eye view of a bustlin' lil' village that grew from the center of it.

I whistled to myself, like callin' out to the wind: Nothin' said second chances like this view.

"Here we are crew," I remembered tellin' em. "Hope y'all love eatin' boiled sweet potatoes for the meanwhile."

***

It didn't take too long for the crew to realize that these honest-to-goodness jobs weren't as lucrative as our good ol' piratin' back in the day, and for a while, they grumbled as the burden on their shoulders nearly didn't equal the amount of pay they got out of it.

But every mornin' the people would smile and wave at us when we'd step out of our houses. They got to know us better in the time that we stayed there, and after a stretch of several months, we got to know about them in turn: their hopes, their dreams, their stories.

It felt like a good trade off to me: It was like a whole new world where the lot of 'em didn't see us as the fearsome pirate team we once were.

I mean...I'm pretty certain they didn't know us. This area was pretty secluded after all, and they didn't seem to be up to date with their criminals and happenins.

Seein' a kindred spirit within them, I quickly grew to love these simple folk, and I reckon they shared my sentiments.

And the surprises just kept comin' my way: not even givin' me enough time to recover from the assault, life would yet throw another one at the most unexpected of moments.

This particular instance, it was what used to be a dream; no, not even close. It used a joke that floated in the air, but then I could see it in the flesh with my own two eyes.

I was just walkin' home from work when I came to a halt at the sight of the monstrosity that stood on where our poorly made houses used to huddle together like penguins. Some of my men were walkin' about it, carryin' tools and whatnot, and just a good distance away, I could see Duncan with his back faced to me, and I approached him on top of the little mound of earth that he stood on. My mouth was still open, but it didn't take words for Duncan to notice my presence, and once he established contact with me, the first thing I noticed was his grin.

A wide one too.

"Like what you see?" he asked. "I know rent is expensive and all, so I figured we might as well put our old friend to use. Ain't she gorgeous? What do you think? Yes, I know. You're welcome, captain."

"What the hell...?" I asked in a daze, but my shock turned to that of pleasant awe.

In front of me was my ship, my Huckleberry, with one side of the flattened bilge cut open, the other modified to plaster it against the side of a cliff. Passin' by me was Seb, and on his shoulder was one end of a really good piece of lumber. Under the other end of the wood was Thomas, who only smiled and waved at the sight of his captain. Then, they were off--back to work it was.

"You're turnin' the ship into a house?" I asked as I tooky hat off my head.

"I mean, rent is expensive."

Before I could hold myself back, I stepped forward to bask in all the busyness of the massive project, and that familiar sense of leadership crept back into the deepest crevices of my soul; it awakened the old man I used to be, and it surprised me that I intended to push through with my desire to supervise once more. The task did look promising, and a pile of duties opened up because of this renovation of sort. I buzzed with zeal as I tried to voice out all of the great potential this place should realize. Excitement swallowed me whole, and I was the little kid I once was.

However, as awesome as this plan was, we figured that it was simply too big to be our house alone. Then we remembered how there wasn't any decent bar places that we all could go to and just...chill.

You see where I'm goin' with this?

So it was with great pleasure that I announced the opening of--wait for it--The Huckleberry for all of the people to see. They could come in, pay cash, and basically just do whatever the hell they want, order a drink or two--so long as they don't cause collateral damage to the place I poured my spirit .

I'm a genius for keepin' the name, aren't I?

So the old crew grouped back together for the biggest mission of their lives: servin' drinks to the men and keepin' the women company.

Except for Thomas...he found himself a lady friend, daughter of the blacksmith I think. And we're certain he wouldn't want to know what she could do with the weapons at her disposal.

Business was doin' well, if I do say so myself, and there were only a few bumps on the road, all of which we handled easily like pros. Everyday, I had a smile on my face as I served people drinks, as I listened to their stories about close call encounters and ragin' sees and sirens.

But that was how my story started, didn't it? With a siren.

I'll never forget how he came into my life, how his name was Hanzo, and all I could do was serve life happily in his memory, a "kiss my ass" kinda thing to all those who wanted us dead. It was the perfect payback, but every now and then, I wake up every mornin' and I could fantasize about a thousand scenarios on how this life could have been a whole lot happier.

The mornings would be filled with our bickering, his snarky remarks, and my grunts of disapproval. Then throughout the day, we'd go about our jobs--he'd try to focus on the task at hand while I try to deter him from it with my shameless flirtatious advances. In the still hours of the evening, we'd whisper our sentiments to each other, and I'd tell him how thankful I was that he chose to remain by my side despite bein' a real piece of work. I'll show him how much I adore him, morning will come, and then we'll do it all over again.

Every time I caught myself lost in this lil' perfect world, I'd sigh and cement myself back down to reality. One could only dream, and the yearnin' I felt was...maddenin'.

"Captain? Captain!" It took me awhile, but I snapped out of my reveries, and I saw Thomas crouching to level his eyes with mine, the cleaning rag in his hands wrinkled from his vice grip.

"What is it, partner?" I asked with a tired smile. "A runaway customer again?"

"Even worse," he whispered, his saucer like orbs leaning further into mine. "There's a ghost!"

I lifted a brow. "A ghost?" Was this guy for real? "Of who? My great gramma Harriet? Tell her I ain't payin'-"

"No! He's been standing there for how many minutes now--quietly judging everything about this place!"

"Oh come on, Thomas," I said. "What's there to judge? I mean, this is how we get customers. Their patronage is greatly appreciated you know-"

Before I could finish, the young man grabbed my face with one hand and swerved my neck 180 degrees to my left. At first I wanted to break free and give him a scoldin' for such a rash action. But I followed his blue gaze, and once I settled mine on his person of interest, I nearly dropped the glass I was holdin' as the whole world slowed before me.

That dark, shoulder length hair; the fair skin tainted with scars; those steely amber gazes--I didn't need to look twice to make out the face of the person standin' twelve feet away from me.

"Hanzo?"

As if hearing my innermost voice, the man turned, and the moment we met eye to eye, he made a mad dash for the exit.

My high gears were flipped on, and I started barkin' orders, much to the surprise of everyone at the bar.

"Get him!" I shouted, jumping thoughtlessly over the countertop. "It's Hanzo! Don't let him get away."

I didn't wait for the others to jump into action; mirage or not--I'm not lettin' him get away. Not this time.

"Hanzo!" I yelled out.

The man didn't turn around to pay any heed to my call. Not that I needed him to; it just proved my point altogether.

Why else would he be runnin'?

I headed off with such a quick start that once or twice I nearly tripped on myself. Of course I cursed the moss for it, or the smoothness of the stones, and yet I tried so damn hard not to lose sight of my target. I would kill myself for it.

"Hanzo!" I called once more. "Hanzo, I swear-!"

The second he knew that I was gainin' on him, he made a sharp turn, and my eyes widened. I knew what he was up to: he was gon' lose me by jumpin' into a dip in the hill. If he makes it there, it was as good as game over.

"Hanzo, I know it's you!" I huffed, ignorin' the burnin' sensation that seized my legs as I kicked them to run the fastest they've ever been. "Hanzo, don't go!"

With the last of my common sense leavin' my head, I pushed back and made a jump for it once I decided that he was close enough. Relief and heartbreak rushed through me the moment I realized I had his shirt locked in my grip, and this grip will soon lock for as long as it had to.

I'll never let go.

Not even as we both stumbled down on the sloping ground...

Not even as we both rolled down the hill with pebbles and dirt scratchin' and stickin' to our skins...

Not even as my world faded into nothingness.

I wasn't gonna let go...I ain't doin' the same thing twice.

I ain't givin' up on Hanzo, or I was gonna be the biggest fool I ever knew.


	22. Well, Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots and lots of swearing.
> 
> And some implied sexy times...
> 
> Enjoy tho!

There came an end to the swirling abyss that was darkness, and Jesse McCree became one of the few to conquer it and see the light of the living world again. The journey seemed short in his mind's eye, but with a throbbing head turned to putty, he still had to make certain whether he was back home or somewhere else entirely.

"W-What...happened...?" the former pirate murmured, lifting a sore, heavy arm to block out some of the rays of white light that shone on his bloodshot orbs.

"You were an idiot--that's what happened."

There was a sharp spat that shot out from the empty spot beside him, and before McCree could muster the effort to swivel his neck and face the source of the harsh greeting, a blur of flesh and black and blue appeared before his visage, and it neared him inch by inch.

"How long was I out?" Jesse asked, closing his eyes shut as soon as he tried to open them.

"Two hours."

"Huh..." McCree hummed to himself as he attempted to prop his weight up on one shaking arm. A thoughtless move if you were to ask his strange companion. "I coulda sworn it'd at least be a day."

"Oh Captain, thank goodness yer awake!"

A few more voices joined in, and the number of dark blurs heightened in Jesse's hazy ken the longer the minutes passed by.

"I saw him..." he sputtered out in his stupor.

"Take it easy, captain-" Seb neared, pushing a broad palm down upon McCree's chest to lay him back down on the ground. But the old captain was as stubborn as a bull.

"I saw him," he insisted. "I saw Hanzo."

"I know," the familiar sharp voice replied gruffly. "You chased me down a hill. Like I said--what a foolish move to do."

"H-Han?" Jesse's eyes blew wide open, and he blinked harshly to cast back the tiny floating spots that obscured his vision. He thought of nothing more than sitting up to see his love once more, fearing that should he even tardy a single second, he could probably lose the only chance he'll have of seeing him ever again.

He cared not that there was a jackhammer going off on the surface of his temples, and he fought through the weakness, never forgetting to seize Hanzo by whatever his hands could lay themselves on the fastest.

"Hanzo...!" McCree was breathless, probably brought upon by a mix of disbelief and awe. "Han-!"

"I heard you the first time," the other snapped, rolling his amber eyes to the side. Though a condescending gesture, it was one familiarity Jesse was more than happy to see.

It really was Hanzo; his Hanzo.

Out of instinct, his eyes shifted downwards, and he found another baffling thing that only added up to the pile of the day's weird events.

"How?" McCree could only ask, not even knowing where to begin. "Y-you have legs...!"

"As I've done before. I believe you are well acquainted to it."

"I..." Jesse stuttered, taken aback by how casual his former lover was being with him.

It was like the two years apart wiped away all of those loving memories they once shared; as well as the hardships they had to endure that got in the way of them being together. It was as if he forgot he had died of a gunshot wound!

All the crew had to do was glance a little bit his way to bear witness to the heartache and pain and bafflement McCree had a hard time hiding.

"Look." Hanzo stepped in before the former pirate could hatch one of the many questions he had in his mind. "You have a concussion, as do I. I think it would be best if we get you back home and tend to your wounds."

The other crew members refused to wait for any further orders and knew full well that the shock of seeing who was supposed to be a dead person and falling down a hill and hitting your head several times over would take a toll on their former captain that manifested itself in his unsettling stillness. Thus, they placed both of his arms over their shoulders and guided McCree for a safe travel back uphill.

Hanzo didn't seem to be as helpless as Jesse was, even when he fell down in the same painful fashion. A few bruises here and there but other than that, he seemed fine. It was still a puzzle how he was able to keep his calm at a situation like this, when the former pirate's bearings barely hung on by thin thread.

"No, fucking dammit...!" McCree hissed under his breath, gritting his teeth together as he pushed himself free of his comrades' helping arms to stride towards his lover, already walking a few feet ahead of them with his hands clasped before his rear.   
"Han, you can't just walk away like that! How can you pretend that all this is okay?!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Hanzo replied without an air of vexation in his deep voice.

"What do I mean? What the fuck does that even mean?!"

The other members of The Huckleberry crew pulled their hands out and stepped away in defeat and fear of experiencing the man's fury first hand, but only young Thomas dared to step forward to offer some sort of assistance or comfort to his agitated father-figure. Then there was a snap in the atmosphere, a sudden shift that only added a new layer of discomfort as the men all burst out into loud, frantic whispers.

"I think it would be best if we leave them be, lad."

"Yeah, let them sort this out."

"But McCree is hurt."

"We'll unless we move, we're all going to end up as carcasses for the vultures! Let's go."

"The pirate has gone through worse than this."

"Alright...but I'm not carrying him back to the pub."

They skittered away by the group, the sound of their frantic footsteps muffled by the swaying grass. For a while, the pirates were merely bobbing blurs in the side of Jesse's angry vision, but as quickly as they had stood there, they disappeared.

There was no stopping him then from locking eyes with the thought-to-be-dead-siren mirroring his glare.

Then again, it was his default face. No surprise there.

"Explain how you're still alive," Jesse growled low. "I saw you die, Han. You were as cold as ice."

At the command Hanzo let off an exasperated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose to vent out some of his impatience. "Let's...just get back to your abode and-"

"No, explain here! Explain now." Jesse huffed as he crossed his sweaty, pin-pricked arms over his heaving chest. "I can handle the fuckin' bruises--now talk."

"I was talking about my injuries-"  
"What?" Jesse hissed as his vision turned red, narrowing his eyes to slits he could barely see past. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"I don't-"

"For fuck's sake Hanzo," Jesse snapped. "If I bring you back to the ship, will ya finally start makin' sense?"

The shorter man stood there blankly in a slight daze, eyes widening. But it was only for a moment.

He closed his orbs, nodding softly, and he let his former lover roughly take him by the arm all the way back to The Huckleberry. But McCree didn't halt at the entrance as Hanzo and the rest of the crew have expected.

Instead the pair made a mad dash to the captain's quarters, where as soon as Hanzo was bulwarked within the walls of the renovated cabin, the door was locked shut, precluding any further bursts of running that could lead up to another escape and in turn to another wild chase. 

"Talk, Hanzo," Jesse said tersely, gripping the edge of the familiar mahogany desk Hanzo had last seen some two years ago. "And nothin' but the whole truth--no skimpin' out on details, no beatin' around the bush. You owe me this much."

"Owe you?" He then heard Hanzo spat, slightly swaying on his heels as he jerked his chin up in indignance. "I've never heard of such customs; I didn't know death could be owned by someone now."

"Keep the sass to a minimum, darlin'." Jesse cut off. "You're just here to give me answers."

"Well--" Hanzo gave up and crossed his arms. "What do you want to know, pray tell?"

At this McCree shot him a lifted brow, accompanied by a mild snarl of the lips. "Where have you been?" he asked incredulously. "W-why show up now? How--how did this even happened?"

There was a slight pause. "Have ya...have ya learned to forget me in such a short time? You act like you don't know me, like we've never been through so much."

All of a sudden, the man's broad shoulders slackened and rolled forward in defeat. He lifted a hand and combed his brown tresses with his fingers, chuckling shortly afterwards once he realized what was off with his head. The weight of his hat was gone, and he quickly made a mental note to get a new one as soon as this pressing matter came to an end.

Speaking of pressing matters...

"Jesse..."

When McCree heard the merman utter his name out in that gravelly voice he's been pining for for the long length of sleepless nights, he couldn't help cracking a sad grin as he inched closer and laid a palm on the rough, bearded face of his lover.

In an unexpected turn of events, McCree dipped his head down and pressed their brows together, mingling each other's warm breathing as he closed his eyes and peace settled over his dark countenance. Hanzo's eyes widened at the unsettling shift of his mood, and he tightened the cross his pale arms have made over his chest.

"J-Jesse...." There was no more snark underlying beneath his words. It was as pure as the first snow on a winter morning.   
"I missed ya Hanzo," Jesse whispered, tracing the bumps and hollows on the bones of Hanzo's face from memory. "I tried. I swear to the heavens I tried to forget but I'm reminded of you everyday..."

Hanzo remained silent, but he loosened the entanglement of his limbs to in turn lay his own smaller palm against the back of the pirate's hand.

Jesse jerked a bit from surprise, but he stood still, fearing the tiniest disturbance could make his Hanzo vanishagainst once again or that he'd find out that it was all only just a dream.

"Have you...ever found anyone in my stead?" Hanzo asked just as lowly, avoiding to meet any direct gazes.

It could be interpreted in a lot of different ways, but Jesse only shook his head, fully comprehending what he meant. "No. It's not like I wanted to either."

"...so you've been alone then?"

Jesse finally opened his eyes. "No. The crew's been holdin' me up pretty well."

"I see."

McCree's brows then furrowed at the center and he forced himself to look. "You know, you never really answered any of my questions, Han."

"I...I don't know where to begin." The merman admitted, sparing a breathy chuckle of his own. "So much has happened to me...not to mention, it is rather unsettling that you've stopped yelling and cursing my way."

"Well then let me help ya start." Jesse's voice was low and thick like newly melted chocolate as he lowered his face further down, brushing the tip of his nose to Hanzo's reddened ones. "Do you still love me?"

The merman bit his lip and retracted his hand back to his side. "...I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" The answer bristled the pirate. "So you felt absolutely nothin' when ya saw me?"

"Yes."

"Then why did ya run?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Hanzo said as he ripped himself off the other's gentle hold. "I just--I came here because my brother told me he'll meet with me here, alright? You don't have business knowing anymore aside from that."

"I thought you said your brother was killed."

"I met him a few nights ago...I thought he was a bandit and I chased him down in a long pursuit because I noticed he had been following me for a good part of the afternoon."

"And? How did that encounter lead you here?"

"After confronting him and coming to terms with the fact that Genji was alive after all, I told him that I wanted a full story on what happened to him, why he only decided to show up now."

"I take it that he didn't give answers."

"No." Hanzo confirmed. "He only gave me instructions to meet at a pub called The Huckleberry."

To this, McCree lifted a thick brow. "Didn't the name ring a bell to you?"

The merman shrugged. "I was too caught in the shock of being face to face with my younger brother again that it completely flew out of my notice. But when our eyes met earlier this day, I..."

Hanzo sighed and shook his head in anger. "It...it all came back to me but it was too late...so I ran."

"But why?" McCree meant to admonish, but it came off as a pathetic plea instead, laced with clear betrayal and indignity. "Why would you run away from me?"

"I can't tell you, Jesse. It doesn't matter anymore, I can't-"

"So that's it then?" Jesse fumed. "All that time we've been together, and ya still act like you've only known me this morning. You just can't trust me, can you? What, do I have to grow a tail for ya to rip that tough mask you've never bothered takin' off?"

"You know as much as I do that you deserve someone better than the likes of me," Hanzo shot back, visibly shaking. "You've given up so much, endangered your very skin, and through it all, I seem to be only bringing more harm your way! Are you that blind, pirate? That you can't even see when one is undeserving of pity, of love?"

"Bullshit," Jesse lowly huffed under his breath, and in one big step, he closed the distance between them and pulled the merman's face up to his to lock their lips in a bruising kiss.

Hanzo's eyes widened as his knees wobbled and he would have fell onto the ground there and then if McCree hadn't picked up on his startlement and bent down to wrap his arms tight around the shorter man's waist, pressing him flush against his own person.

Heady groans and supressed moans quickly rose and heated the room considerably as the two continued their pursuit of desire in the body of the other: Hanzo dropped his self denial altogether and pushed a tongue into Jesse's mouth as the pirate's hands slid down to punish Hanzo with a firm grab at the rear.

Hanzo was the first to pull away, startled yet again. McCree smirked, seeing an opportunity where it was as he firmly grabbed his lover by the shoulders and roughly pushed his small frame against the wooden wall of his cabin.

The merman's orbs roll up to the back of his skull as the impact knocked the air off his lungs. He was being man handled like an unruly servant; thick, deft hands working and bending him mercilessly to the will of their master.

And gosh darn, did he love it.

Hanzo put up a weak fight, squirming and hissing and being utterly defiant just to squeeze more of this side of Jesse, to push them both to the limit.

"What are you doing...?" the merman panted, eyes clenching shut as pleasure ran and fizzled through every nerve ending in his body.

"I don't know," Jesse admitted with a scowl and tightened his hold on the pinned man. "But I wanna do a lot of things to you right now. I'm angry, cross, happy--I could dance for joy and I'd still wanna show you in a string of colorful vocabulary just how much I was starvin' for ya during those long sleepless nights."

"Your resentment is not without cause." Hanzo winced at the pressure that Jesse had set on his pale biceps. He could feel his lungs press against the wooden wall he was plastered against, and he had not registered the tight ball in his throat until he swallowed. "Do whatever you wish to me...I don't even know if I can ever undo what I've done. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you, Jesse."

"So you avoidin' me for two years is your idea of not hurtin' me?" McCree growled and pressed a thick thigh between Hanzo's legs.

"I just...I couldn't bear seeing you hurt." Hanzo's walls were breaking apart, and the truth began to seep out through the cracks. "When Preacher threw your bloody hat my way, I thought I had failed to protect you, that he had gone back on his word and hunted you down anyway. I... I wanted to go back," he paused to lower his voice, "but every time I decide to reach out to you, I remembered that panic I felt under his hold. I thought it would be better if I stayed away-"

"Han, I'd gladly cheat death over and over again just to see that lil' pretty face of yours sleepin' right next to mine," McCree murmured as he laid the pad of his thumb on the small patch of hair under Hanzo's lower lip. "And I've faced a lot of storms on the high seas. I don't see why I can't face yours too."

"Jesse..." Hanzo's tongue stilled as he half-heartedly wracked his brain for more things to counter his lover with.

He found none.

"Don't try to fight it, Han." McCree murmured as he dipped his hand under the skirt of Hanzo's robe and ran his palm slowly up his thick thigh. "You want this just as much as I do, don't ya?"

Stifling a shudder Hanzo nodded with his eyes shut close and his mouth parted to suck in a sharp and quick inhale of air.

"Please..." he whispered and fisted the cloth of Jesse's shirt.

"What was that?" Jesse asked teasingly, the scowl on his face still apparent from their disagreement awhile ago.

"Please...take me. I forgot how good this felt."

"What if I were to bend you over a basin, darlin'? Would you still let me take you?"

"Yes," Hanzo said, voice low but very much certain as he felt the other's erection against his stomach. "Do it."

"Not until you answer my question: Do you still love me?"

"I do." Hanzo was close to tears as he rubbed himself against the other's rigid form. "I never...I never found anyone that could ever replace you. You were never not in my mind, Jesse."

"That's good enough for me." Jesse's face mellowed a bit as he lifted Hanzo by his bottom and haphazardly threw the smaller man down upon the mattress of his bed.


	23. Pleasure with a Pirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyhow, here it is! Let's go!  
> Hello yall. SUp
> 
> There's really REALLY graphic sex in this chapter so...avert the virgins or something :)
> 
> Don't worry. You'll still understand the last chapter of the book even when you didn't read this one. This is just what happened between Jesse and Hanzo in the middle of that make out scene in the last chapter and the one after this.
> 
> You've been warned, loves. See you at the end of the sin. >:)

The bed beneath creaked shrilly with the shuffling of their weight, and there was a rustle of cloth as their bodies begged to be free of their confinements.

The first moan erupted from Hanzo's throat, and Jesse followed suit. The two men were being led by their desires, and it was cementing themselves down to reality to instead talk about a few issues that really mattered at the moment.

Instead they resorted to making out and letting things get too far. Making up for lost time, they tried to convince themselves through the haze of their carnality. Fingers scraped skin, teeth clicked against one another, and limbs tangled themselves and coveted the warmth of flesh. The two could hear the beating of their hearts raging in their ears, and their bodies pulsed in sync as sweat broke out. In a minute they were bare for the other's disposal, and McCree scanned the expanse of Hanzo's pale pinpricked skin as the merman heaved harshly, struggling to breathe as evident by the tight clenching of his eyes and fists.

"J-Jesse," Hanzo moaned. "Jesse, please. Stop teasing...I don't think I can last much longer."

The pirate threw his head back and roared a booming laugh before settling down with a few restrained chuckles and tears of amusement brimming his eyes. "I haven't even touched you yet, and you're tellin' me you're close?"

For emphasis Jesse kneaded his palm upon the taut meat of Hanzo's inner thigh, dangerously close if not directly beside his hardening cock. Hanzo shuddered a breath, his eyes rolling back, and Jesse's lips quirked up into a sadistic smirk. He continued his sweet torturous minstrations on the spot with a firm press of a circling thumb and fleeting touches of feathery fingertips, tracing away obscure patterns Hanzo couldn't understand. Jesse never thought in all his years that he had it in him to have the makings of "an aggravating tease" and an "insufferable fool" as Hanzo angrily referred to him --endearingly might I add-- just moments ago for that little stunt he pulled; testing the waters the pirate would say to justify himself. Whether the man's jest was real or false, Hanzo has yet to decide.

But then again Hanzo couldn't begin to comprehend anything in this muddled plight his head was put in. In response to the things Jesse decided to do to him, he could only hiss, groan, snarl, or moan his approval, which in turn only furthered McCree's pride and already bolstered confidence. He felt warm all over, and the former outlaw was more than determined to test both of their limits until they regretted it.

Shivers stung Hanzo's spine and he arched his back with a breathless gasp as he registered thick, rough fingers finally wrapping around his pulsing shaft. His sex was throbbing in sync with his heartbeat and even he could feel the wanton heat it emanated, which only intensified his lust for the pirate, thankfully touching him then.

Jesse stroked him after snapping out of the daze of how hot Hanzo was for him. The pump was slow and steady with the purpose of having Hanzo accustomed to the pace. McCree was certain that up until him, the merman had little experience with exploring his more intimate human parts with another human being. Sure, they've done this before back when The Huckleberry was still a ship...but the whole experience was rather rushed and quick every time he thought about it. It was more of a spur of the moment thing than anything else.

Perhaps Hanzo gained more experience in the span of the two years he went missing; perhaps he found another lover then, one that showered him with blinding gifts and affection, one that made him writhe in pleasure during a passionate escapade.

The thought of Hanzo sprawled naked--and begging, maker forbid it-- on another man's bed sent a cold spike of jealousy into Jesse's heart that he couldn't help snarling as he tightened his grip on the shaft and quickened his pumping.

"A-Ah! Jesse...!" Hanzo moaned, digging the back of his head deeper into the pillow underneath and baring the perfect underside of his jaw for Jesse to take as his surrender.

Good, Jesse thought to himself, intent on erasing any memory of any former lover that may yet linger in the back of Hanzo's mind. Dipping his head lower, he pressed his lips onto the silken head of Hanzo's cock and slid his tongue out to trace the ridge of his foreskin, while the hand on the organ continued to pump with no pause. 

Precome soon dribbled down the length of the cock and seeped into the tight spaces between Jesse's occupied fingers, and a broad thumb pressed down upon the sensitive bundle of nerves running prominently at the underside of Hanzo's cock.   
The merman then reached out to him with a shaking hand and locked his fingers onto the damp brown locks on Jesse's scalp to urge him further down his length.

To his own surprise, Jesse acquiesced and dared to take more than the silken head of the organ into the wet heat of his avid mouth. To provide for the comfort of them both, McCree took the time to pause--much to the disapproval of his lover--to maneuver Hanzo's legs so that his pale thighs pressed against the wide plane of the pirate's muscular shoulders. It was more than awkward for Hanzo to have the rest of his legs beyond the knees dangling tense and hovering above the broad expanse of McCree's back, but with his need to be touched and sated blaring and pulsing in his ears, such thoughts were paid little heed to.

And any more reluctance disappeared like the wind when Hanzo felt warm hands fondling his hardening balls. His sacs ached at the much needed contact and he squirmed under McCree with a strangled mewl of approval bubbling up from his throat.

"Like that, darlin'?" The pirate smirked and rolled the round flesh about on his palm.

"D-don't tease me, Jesse...please," Hanzo pleaded, gasping for air. "Just- just give it to me."

"How bad do you want it?" McCree asked, his voice so thick with arousal that it was impossible to miss. "How bad do you want my cock, Han?"

"Very much," Hanzo answered with a half lidded gaze. "I'm desperate."

Even through the curtain of the merman's thick black lashes, McCree could see just how much his pupils have blown, nearly taking over the usual amber of his irises.

It looked pretty fucking hot, the whole thing: his merman bare on his bed, chest heaving and pin-pricked skin sheened with sweat. His lips were slightly swollen from their earlier make out session, and his teeth were biting down on the back of his hand to muffle any tell-tale noises that might sow suspicion among the rest of the crew.

McCree didn't give a damn if the whole island heard his lover moaning on his dick, but he thought with a wicked grin how fun it would be to further test Hanzo and see just how far he could go with his vow of quietude. McCree then trailed light kisses from the top to the base of Hanzo's sensitive shaft, making sure he'd brush his brown, unkempt beard over the sensitive skin once in a while. As expected, Hanzo would cry out in over stimulation and tighten the already vice grip that threatened to bleed Jesse's scalp.

Yes, it all seemed perfect, except...

"Spread yourself."

"W-What?" Hanzo's eyes widened as the command took him off guard.

"You heard me, darlin'." McCree's stare was sharp and steady, unfazed by Hanzo's confusion. "Oh, right you probably need lube for that. Hold on."

He shifted away from Hanzo's supine form to retrieve something from one of the drawers on his mahogany desk. As he did so, Hanzo propped his weight up on his elbows and watched Jesse walk away. He unconsciously took it upon himself to memorize every curve, ever bump, and every scar that littered Jesse's very endowed person. He let his longing gaze stray far too down beyond the length of the spine and he trained his nearly black orbs on the man's supple rear as he moved, how the muscles shifted with each swing of his toned legs.

Hanzo bit his lip and ran a tongue across the pink flesh.

"Use this," Jesse said. "Finest one there is in the market."

Without warning, McCree tossed over a small glass vial containing a clear oily substance. Hanzo sat up to catch it and immediately eyed the object with disdain as it sat between his fingertips.

"So you have been with others while I was gone," Hanzo sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope--" he ran a hand over his sweaty head-- "that you would at least replace me after many more years of mourning. I was thinking...five?

"Then again it doesn't matter what I think: I'm glad you found happiness. You deserve to have someone watching over you."

The defeat in his voice drew concern from the pirate, but Jesse lifted his brow instead. "You thought I was sleepin' with someone so soon after I thought ya died?"

"Well, why else would you have this?" Hanzo spat, red-faced and thankfully still rock-hard despite his anger and envy. "You expect me to believe that you had this lying around for nothing?"

"Well..." Jesse ran a palm up his hairy nape. "That's exactly it. Was on my way home one day when I came across this merchant guy, Bodahn, and he said that he was only gonna stay here on the village for three days, said that business was a rough tumble around these parts. Ah had some cash left so I offered to buy half his wares-"

Hanzo's glare softened as he took in the cluttered junk that littered McCree's cabin and he nodded in understanding.

"And I suppose this thing was included in your impromptu shopping spree then."

McCree laughed heartily at his beloved's use of terms. "Damn right it did, darlin', and look--it ain't even opened yet."

Twisting the slender neck against his thumb and finger, Hanzo could indeed see that the cork remained intact as the day it was packed.

"So...you've never really been with anyone?" Hanzo found himself whispering, face hot with a wave of relief cooling it down.

"Course not," McCree answered with a scoff. "Ok, maybe that one time I kissed this chick but I was drunk off my ass and...well, I was just tryin' to forget. Still, I could ask ya the same thing, y'know."

"No...I've never been with anyone. I, too, have gotten drunk to the point that I can't stand, but no one came near me to...I don't know, initiate something."

"Well, their loss." McCree shrugged, thankful that Hanzo probably looked so wasted no one was willing to come to him for a fun exploit in some dark dingy bedroom. "But we could be back together now and we could...pick up right where we left off," the pirate offered and crawled his way up to loom over his anxious lover, settling back down upon the soft mattress. 

"I suppose there's no more secrets between us then?" Hanzo panted when he felt two rough hands brush past his thighs like feathers, only to grip at his bony, ruddy knees and part them wide.

"There ain't, and you better start talkin' as soon as mornin' comes," McCree hummed huskily and placed his mouth right over the merman's tingling ears. "But for now since we're bein' honest and all, I'd really wanna see you stretch yourself now; see just how many fingers you can put in that pretty ass of yours."

Hanzo's mind was blank as he tried to grasp the dirtiness in Jesse's whispered words, but his hand seemed to have taken a life of its own and started to coat itself with the clear unctuous lubricant until his fingers were slick and slippery. Jesse could only watch as the merman moved the wet touch down to his rim and gently, carefully parted himself for his lover's entry. As he did so, McCree sat up and took his cock in one hand, the other moving down to further stimulate Hanzo.

"I'm ready...Jesse," Hanzo muttered breathlessly, vision blurring with tears the moment he set his gaze on Jesse's muscular arms, busily working themselves with a quickened pace to stroke both their dicks. "I'm ready."

"So am I," McCree muttered as he leaned back down only to plant a light kiss on the smaller man's earlobe and a quick flick of the tongue upon its sensitive tip. More of Hanzo's warm come wetted his fingers, and he figured the teasing had to stop then, or else someone's coming on the sheets that night without a dick up his ass.

Now that would be unfortunate.

"I'll try to be gentle darlin'," Jesse assured and grabbed for the small vial to lube his own eager, throbbing shaft. "Oh, you'll be the death of me, Han."

After making sure the slickness of his entire cock would suffice, Jesse grabbed Hanzo by the hips, placed a pillow underneath for leverage, and finally pushed the glabrous head of his cock into the tight rim.

Jesse thought he'd come then and there when he felt just how gloriously hot and tight Hanzo was, and just how well he was stretching to pull in more of his eager cock.

"Dammit, Han..." McCree panted as he swore, rolling his hips to push himself down to the hilt. "Fuck..."

"Jesse-" Hanzo felt one of McCree's hands grip at his long locks, just behind his head, and used it like rope to pull Hanzo down and bare his throat out for the other to behold. At this, the merman gulped, and his Adam's apple bobbed invitingly for Jesse to devour it.

So the pirate marked him with a harsh kiss above his collarbone, sucked the reddened spot there, and licked at the irritated skin, which will no doubt purple into a telltale bruise later on. Jesse did this all the while he drilled himself inside Hanzo's ass.

"Fuck..." Jesse cursed again, planking himself on his forearms so that he may roughly kiss Hanzo, who had been on the verge of fainting from all the pleasure that McCree was inflicting on him without mercy. "You feel so good, so right...it's like you were made to take my dick."

The other was still busy regulating his breathing, panting like a bitch in heat. He didn't seem to have heard a word that Jesse said, and at this, Jesse bristled, and he angrily clashed his lips against Hanzo's and smothered whatever supply he would have needed to keep himself from passing out.

"Mph-" Hanzo's moan was muffled and he clawed at Jesse's back as he feet pushed Jesse's hips impossibly closer to fully insert itself on the space between his legs.

"A-ah...!"

"Fuck...tell me, tell me how good I make ya feel, Han," Jesse moaned as sweat ran down his temples like rivulets, as his strength kept his sore hips ramming into the same spot each and every time.

"Good...so good." Hanzo struggled to convey his euphoria into words.

"Just good?" Jesse challenged with a snarl and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and he slammed his hips to sheath himself to the hilt and brush against Hanzo's prostrate.

Over and over again.

"Ah!" Hanzo opened his eyes at the sudden stab of pleasure that dominated his whole body. "J-Jesse, a-ah!"

"Tell me how you feel."

Hanzo's knuckles have turned a whole new shade of white at clutching the side frames of the bed with every fiber of strength he could afford. "So..." he swallowed back the moan that blocked his throat. "You're so big Jesse, so thick...a-and you make me feel so good, I-I feel--ngh, I feel like I want to remain here forever."

"Skewered on my dick?" McCree groaned with the slightest hint of amusement.

"I want to submit to you...like this...with you doing whatever you desire to me."

"Oh, you better be expectin' a lot of this, darlin'." Jesse promised, "We gotta make up for two years of undisclosed sexual tension."

"I'm alright with that arrangement." Hanzo was smiling with a half lidded gaze.

"Good." Jesse's voice dropped an octave, and his voice was thick and husky with arousal. "I like you like this...naked, desperate, and filled..."

With me.

"and those sounds you make...so fuckin' sexy..."

It was worth it; it was all worth it if it meant making Hanzo feel good, making him moan and squirm and surrender beneath his rippling body. Every cry of pleasure that broke free from the merman's swollen lips urged the pirate to pound harder, to completely make it known just how much he had replayed this scene in his head all those lonely nights, hoping for any sort of miracle that the love of his life would come back to him in the flesh.

McCree wouldn't hesitate to believe that this was all a dream after all.

There was a strangled cry from beneath him, and through glazed, limpid eyes Jesse saw Hanzo's cock twitch--his prostate having been milked without reserve, and hot jets of cum spewed out, sticking to their stomachs and chests. There was a distant yelp that they both couldn't discern, thanks to the rushing of the blood that flooded both their ears, but McCree knew that it belonged to his merman; it had to be.

Who else could be screaming his name like a satisfied, wanton slut in the dead of night?

The tight ass that Jesse's cock has been driving in to and fro clenched even more with the sudden climax, and Hanzo pulled him even more with that vice, needy grip of his.

It was too much--all he could manage were three more sloppy, quick, and forceful thrusts before his own cock twitched inside his lover, and he unsuccessfully choked back a scream as the air was seized from his exhausted lungs. He filled Hanzo with hot torrents of his white seed, and it seeped out and dripped from where they were connected.

The sight nearly got Jesse as hard as steel again. 

They rode out the rest of their afterglows slowly, making out as their sweat slicked their bodies for their hands to glide over much more easily. Their tongues had no qualms with the salty taste of the other's sweat or come, and the two explored every curve and every little hidden secret that their beloved had to offer.

Jesse left more marks on that alabaster neck, and Hanzo dipped a hand down to fondle and touch Jesse's balls, making sure that the man was just as spent and well-fucked as he was. The rush of those weird-happy hormones were staring to subside, but the effect of their coupling lingered like a ghost, pricking their tingling skin with goosebumps and making it all the more cumbersome to regain their bearings.

But at last McCree pulled through the exhaustion to check on the one thing in that room that really mattered. "I...I wasn't too rough on ya, was I?" he panted, lifting Hanzo's palm to his cheek so he could nuzzle against the familiar skin and kiss his wrist, where the other's pulse made itself known, calming down just as the two men were from that rush of adrenaline.

In turn, the merman ran his thumb over the coarse skin of McCree's sun-kissed face, and he looked into the pirate's eyes with a rare warmth that no one would expect to find in a dangerous-looking man such as he.

It was a warmth that only McCree could awaken it seems.

And the man liked it that way; the fact that only he had this much regard and respect and love in Hanzo's book.

Among other things...

"I expected to be at the receiving end of your wrath, and so far I'm not disappointed."

McCree blinked and his face morphed into that of regret and concern as he scrambled on his knees to eye Hanzo properly. "I didn't mean for you to think that I only used you to let off steam." The former outlaw was even more horrified once he phrased it like that and he failed his arms. "I-I mean, I really did miss you, and I was just so happy that you're back and I don't know what came over me an'... I thought I wasn't hurtin' you."

"You didn't hurt me, Jesse," Hanzo assured with a chuckle. "The truth would be otherwis and...a little man handling never hurt anybody."

At this Jesse said nothing and shifted his eyes to the side so that he could glance at their toes.

Toes that once curled with such immense pleasure-

"But...how do you feel?" McCree finally asked, breaking the silence thickening between them.

"Sated...happy...tired..." Hanzo went on with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders and leaned further down the mattress.

"Is that all?" McCree asked, strangely with a hopeful tinge in his eyes.

Hopeful for what exactly?

The answer that came his way a moment later was better than anything he could have imagined.

"And I feel like waking up to your face tomorrow..."

McCree sighed and chuckled, nestling Hanzo's still flustered face in his arms to guide it to rest on his broad, hairy chest. Strands of black hair tickled his nose, and his lips were brushing against a pale brow that would often crease with a frown. 

This felt...right; good.

"I love you..." he mumbled absent-mindedly, and the figure under his chin tensed visibly.

The pirate shuddered at his mistake and prepared a long spiel about his earnest apologies when the merman hummed his high approval without warning, pressed his ear against the man's bosom, and whispered five words that rolled out like small gravel in the dusty, dimming quarters.

"I love you too, Jesse."


	24. The Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blip. Bloop. Sup.   
> Here's the last chapter loves!!! :D
> 
> Enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!

It wasn't so much the piercing light than it was the absence of the familiar weight above his chest that woke the former pirate up from his slumber. Jesse groaned in his groggy stupor, his arms and legs somewhat still sore, and was greeted with the sight of Hanzo's back, the merman's hands holding and fumbling with something seemingly flat and leathery in front of him.

He hadn't meant to let his thoughts get the better of him, but before he could conjure the will to hold the thoughts back at bay, McCree squinted his eyes in disbelief and propped himself up on an unsteady elbow as the other arm lifted itself up to pull the wispy curtain of wavy brown locks out of his still stropping vision.

"You're leavin'?" McCree tried not to let his indignation seep through his voice. "After tellin' me that you were gonna explain everything?"

Hearing the unmistakable worry that overrode the anger in his lover's voice, Hanzo managed a smirk as he turned around to reveal the object in question of Jesse's interest.

"If I wanted to leave, I would have done so while I was back at the market place," Hanzo said and carefully tossed the thing over to where his still naked lover lay.

The merman's words passed through the other ear as Jesse persisted his focus on the thing that landed right in front of his lap.

"A hat." McCree finally managed to say before he fully sat upright and held it for himself.

The brim curved slightly upwards, and the material was durable enough that it could endure the harsh sun rays and the water that would fall should rain come upon him. The quality was unmistakably that of a skilled and seasoned craftsman, for how could anyone else manage to maintain the uniform stitching throughout the edges of the brim? Or apply the complicated technique to ensure that the outer layer doesn't weather so easily?

Simply put, it was the best hat Jesse had ever laid his eyes on.

"Yes, I can see that." Hanzo chuckled, and the sound was almost enough to draw Jesse's attention away from the headwear--almost.

"So what is this exactly, darlin'?" McCree felt the fires of his ire simmer, and there was a tell-tale red on his cheeks that told anyone that he was clearly embarrassed by his misinterpretation and flustered over his lover's unexpected gesture.

"I noticed that you still had your hat on before you gave chase to me," Hanzo began. "It must have disappeared along the way; I think when we both tumbled down that hill."

"Right..." Jesse said thoughtfully, eyes cast towards the low beams of the ceiling before they flicked back towards his lover's sharp face. "I...I never got to ask: Where were you hurt? You said you had injuries."

"It's fine, Jesse," Hanzo sighed, and out of poor thought proceeded to eye his sleeved arm, where he knew he'd find the many scars and bruises that littered his skin under the fabric.

"Come 'ere," McCree said in a clipped tone and moved aside to make room for Hanzo to sit on. Once the merman was close enough to touch, McCree secured the other's pale wrist with a firm grip and used the other hand to gather the loose sleeves all the way up to the merman's elbow.

"'It's fine' he says," Jesse chided as he scanned the irritated skin that bordered every cut and wound. "I don't know how I didn't even notice this last night..."

"It was dark," Hanzo offered. "And we weren't exactly focused on anything besides what we were doing to...ourselves."

McCree's face lit with a cheeky smile at the memory of last night. "Still...you coulda said somethin'. You're lucky it ain't as bad as it should look bein' untreated over night."

"You should be more worried about your wounds. You hit yourself quite hard."

"I've hit myself hard ever since I fell for you."

"That was terrible." Hanzo cringed, but there was an underlying grin, one that lifted his cheeks up only to show the prominence of a blush that dusted the skin there. "Just...how are you the same man I met four years ago? The same one that pointed a gun at my face?"

"Eh, you just didn't see the full package then, darlin'," McCree said and picked up the discarded pair of pants from the floor to clothe himself. "Anyway..." Silence filled the room once more and Jesse trailed off, finding that mere small talk wouldn't suffice to fill the expanding quiet and combat the awkward tension.

However in that silence, McCree was able to delve into the backmost corner of his mind, and in there he found a forgotten voice, one shoved aside in light of yesternight's more primal experience.

"Han..." he sighed suddenly and the tenderness of it all was enough to pull Hanzo's gaze from the rickety floors and towards him instead.

The merman said nothing, and so Jesse took it as a sign to continue, "Yesterday...you said you didn't know if you still love me or not. I'm still gettin' the impression that you weren't all that happy to see me; I think you boltin' out the door was proof enough. So what happened back there? Two years apart, a self sacrifice that could have Jesus smilin' down upon ya, and you realize ya don't feel nothin' anymore?"

"It's not as simple as you make it to be, Jesse." The merman crossed his arms as he glowered to the side, where the window was upon the wall. "It's not like I didn't seek you out..."

"That makes it even worse--you knew where I was all along! If things were more complicated, then tell me what happened, why ya never made yourself known to me." Jesse stood up, and Hanzo's heart clenched at the sound of a desperate plea that hid behind the forward command. "In those two years... I thought you were dead. You said you tracked your brother down here but none of that don't exactly explain how you defied death itself."

"Fine," Hanzo spat, trying to school his own emotions and coming to terms that McCree was not going to accept his dismissive waves of the hand. "For my supposed resurrection-"

"I didn't say you resurrected-"

"-there was this doctor," Hanzo continued anyway despite the interruption. "Angela: She was the only true companion I had while being under Preacher's captivity. She tended my wounds, offered kind words of encouragement, and became someone I could truly call a friend. She had no ulterior motives as opposed to all the other humans I've interacted with in my prison.

"And when that fateful day came, when you came for me and failed, I was certain that I was going to die of that gunshot wound right then and there in the little pool at the square. Back then, I don't know why I held on through that blinding pain than necessary...but I did long enough to give Angela an actual chance of saving me, she said so herself. I know it seems like the stuff of miracles, but you shouldn't be surprised: Even Preacher admitted at some point that she was an exceptional healer. Now I don't exactly know the particulars of her procedures, but all she did say was that I could never become a merman anymore. She said my body could no longer support the strain it takes to turn my legs into a tail and vice versa. So in the end, I was left with my human form and...here I am now."

McCree's mind nagged at something his lover said and it showed in the minute shifts of movement on his countenance. "I suppose I should thank her then," the pirate said quietly. "If she hadn't been there when she did, I don't...I don't think you'd be here right now."

Sure he spoke, but something told Hanzo that Jesse wasn't letting off all that he wanted. "You seem distracted, Jesse--perturbed even."

"I..." Jesse began and immediately clamped his month shut, pursing his lips tight as his eyes skated themselves on anything but the merman. He didn't know where to begin; he knew then what he had been itching to know since the day before but when the revelation finally presented itself, something in him felt out of place, wrong.

Broken.

"I'm sorry." In the end it was all that he could manage to say, and McCree in turn remained silent, still as stone with his arms on his thighs, fingers loosely meshed before his bowed head. "I shouldn't blame you for staying away. You're right-- I did fail you. I've been lettin' ya down in more ways than one. I don't know why I was so angry with you yesterday...but now I realize it's my own stupid ass I couldn't stand."

"Jesse, where are you getting at? I never held it against you that you left me behind--Duncan was right to make the call to leave me there. A good captain ensures the safety of his crew."

"Well the whole purpose of us risking our asses back there was to get yours," Jesse fired back, wondering how Hanzo could still be this understanding when all that swelled in his own chest was a sense of despair and regret that weighed like bricks. "My men knew what we were in for, darlin' and we were more than ready for that mission."

"It was suicidal, Jesse." Hanzo glared. "I won't take any more lives."

"You ain't the one killin' them!"

"I can't in good conscience bear to sacrifice the lives of several good men for my own!" Hanzo made his case definite right then. "And I wasn't avoiding you because I felt that you failed me."

"Then what was it, Han? Why did ya stay away so long if it ain't so you don't have to look at my face all the time?"

"Don't you see, fool?" Hanzo bristled, standing up to his full height (and he still only reached up to McCree's chin) as he snapped his arms up in agitation. "I had to stay away, Jesse--I'm only bringing harm your way! You've been sailing free all those long years and the moment I come on board immediately a storm nearly took your whole ship down to the bottom of the ocean, your maniacal former lover comes around, the royal forces have caught up with you when they've been without progress for years, and your lifelong adversary has thrown you in prison and who knows what they've done to you-"

"What?! How is that your fault?" Jesse admonished. "And who the hell told ya that Gabe was my boyfriend?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you."

"Trust me--" McCree rolled his orbs, "--There ain't nothin' goin' on."

"Stop digressing!" Hanzo hissed. "The point is all of these bad things happened to you because of me."

"You really believe that this is some curse? You think your arrival on my Huckleberry caused all of that shit to unfold? I mean I've heard of countless stories about merfolk bringin' the destruction and bad luck to men and shit but you can't possibly expect me to tie this all in with that."

"What else could it be, Jesse?" The raging fierceness in Hanzo's voice died away, and in the end, he was reduced to a man who truly believed that he had almost lost all that mattered to him simply by being there, being right next to them. "How can you explain the consecutiveness of your misfortunes? How do you plan to dissuade me that those were not my doing?"

McCree moved forth with a quick and wide stride and used both hands to grip the merman by the shoulders. "I don't know--but it ain't your fault, Han. You should know by now: Shit happens, and sometimes life decides to give you all of it at once, or when ya think all is fine and dandy." He then loosened his grip and brought one hand up, ever so slowly, to move aside that prominent lock of hair that always hung over Hanzo's right eye. "Don't...don't dwell on it. It happened because it did, and it certainly ain't you who caused it. Leave it at that. And for the record I was the one who hauled ya into the ship, remember?"

After a moment of somber silence, Jesse leaned forward and locked his lips with Hanzo's expectant, parted ones.  
McCree moved the hand he had on Hanzo's shoulder and snaked his fingertips down the length of the other's arm, until it laid on the small of the merman's back. 

Hanzo gasped, feeling the fingers just above his rear clutch on to his flesh with need, and the pirate took the chance to dart his tongue into his started lover's mouth, tasting him.

"I...I just wanna be happy with you, Han. Don't you think after everythin' we've been through, we at least deserve the right to have the endin' we want?"

"What do you wish to find in your end?" Hanzo asked in a whisper and softly stroked McCree's short brown beard. His eyes would dart up and down the man's facade and no matter how many times he'd lay eyes on the pirate, he'd find little things he wondered how he had not noticed before; a healing scar that told a story, or the faint wrinkles that have formed at the sides of Jesse's eyes, eyes that have seen both the wonders and the terrors this world had to offer.

Hanzo always thought that Jesse possessed a rather stunning pair of orbs--soulfoul yet wordly, sharp but gentle.

And Hanzo wanted to be the center of his gazes...even until then.

"Us doing...whatever!" Jesse answered finally with an enthusiastic shrug of the shoulders. "You wanna go and settle down in a normal civilian life with me? Wanna wrestle fishes for our next meal? Done and done. Heck we can even build our own merchants guild from scratch. I...I can't have ya not here with me...being with you--that's all I ask, Han."

Hanzo sighed and flicked his amber orbs to the side, hesitant and very much overwhelmed. But the moment he dared to set those gazes back on the man he has loved through hell and back, something inside him bloomed with a wave of peace and certainty, soothing the flames of doubt that threatened to have him running away again, and in that moment he has never made a surer decision in his life.

"I want to stay..."

When Jesse heard those simple four words, he beamed in disbelief but the hopefulness on his face vanished the moment Hanzo opened his mouth to continue with an unusual tint of regret on his countenance.

"...but I have to look for Genji. I have to look for my brother."

Quiet.

Everything stilled, but Jesse never released Hanzo, nor did the other rip himself from the man's conveniently loose touch.   
"Well..." Jesse began, the first to break the silence. "Do ya have to do it alone?"

"I...no," the merman answered, looking down with red cheeks flaring against alabaster skin. "But I couldn't possibly ask you to help me when you seem so happy here with this lifestyle you have grown into."

"I may have done well the moment we came here on this island," McCree said. "But seein' ya again--now that was somethin'. I don't wanna lose the butterflies I get when I set my eyes on you; it never gets old, not even when I told myself I was fine without you. Please...you make me happy Han, and I just wanna make ya happy in return--so if finding your brother is what it takes, then you can bet your ass that I'll be beside you every step of the damn way."

"I...I can't lie anymore," Hanzo gritted his teeth as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I do want you with me. Staying away from you for that long when I could be inside your arms...that hurt more than anything Preacher could have done to me."

There was no more room for further commentary for Jesse acquiesced to the secret plea in Hanzo's eyes and wrapped the merman in a tight and warm embrace. Hanzo tensed visibly at first, but it didn't take long for him to wrap his arms in turn around Jesse's neck to pull them impossibly closer to one another.

"If ya time to spare, stay awhile...let's give ourselves this time to just...to just sit and sleep and I don't know..." Jesse murmured against the black silken hair pressed against his mouth, and he planted a gentle kiss on the side of Hanzo's head, the familiar smell of the sea wind stirring nostalgia within the man. "Thanks for the hat by the way."

Hanzo laughed. "How do you like it?"

"I love it," Jesse said truthfully, trying to look at the headwear perched atop his rowdy brown locks. "It's a perfect fit."

Hanzo settled for the answer and further contented himself in the warmth that emanated from the pirate's body. He was sore and tired and sleepy...but for the first time the dull ache in his legs hardly mattered. 

He wasn't running away anytime soon.

He wasn't going to let Jesse come off his embrace that easily.

He wasn't going to let him go.

 

 

===============================================

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh you made it! :D YYYAAAAYYYY!!
> 
> Thanks for reading loves! ANd thanks to those who left kudos. 
> 
> I love yall!!!!!!! hope you enjoyed the journey :D

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys! This story is also posted on Wattpad. But if you find it anywhere else, gimme a call or message me cause that's plagiarism, it makes me sad, and I'd really appreciate you notifying me!
> 
> Hope y'all will tune in for the next chapter :D
> 
>  
> 
> link to wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/113541594-never-let-me-go-a-mchanzo-fanfic


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